


Knockturn Alley

by WCTsummer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Independent Harry Potter, Knockturn Alley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-03 18:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 46,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WCTsummer/pseuds/WCTsummer
Summary: In the summer of Harry´s fourth year, he decides that enough is enough. He needs his own place, so Harry moves to a little apartment in seedy, Knockturn Alley. He gets a job at the local pub and in no time, he meets people who change his life. This story follows the perspectives of the people and places Harry Potter meets.This story is based around a challenge I did ages ago where each chapter has to be 100 words more than the last.





	1. Harry Potter

Harry James Potter had never gave himself a birthday present before. He justified this one by telling himself that his father would have approved. His mother might not have, but then again Aunt Petunia was her sister so maybe she would have understood. 

Harry levitated his chest of meger possessions past the threshold and shut the door behind himself. The tacky purple paint was peeling off the door in long raintrail shaped strips. 

“Happy 15th Birthday me” Harry’s voice echoed around the spartan apartment. There was nothing in it yet, but a trip to Knockturn Alley’s second hand shops would change that.


	2. Ragnok

Ragnok drank at the The White Wyvern every day after work. He had started coming to the seedy, Creature friendly pub when he first moved to Knockturn Alley some 53 years ago. He made a point of avoiding the sparse few witches and wizards who dare step foot in the notoriously dangerous pub. 

That being said, he was starting to warm up to the new wizard who had been hired. The mop of brown hair worked hard, never dallied and was unfailingly polite. 

The first time Ragnok saw the table of drunken leaches molest the young wizard, he had snickered to himself and turned back to his drink. That was several days ago. The amusement had faded. 

Tonight, Ragnok was annoyed enough to want to do something and drunk enough to think he should. He staggered off his barstool and hobbled his way over.

“De fuck you doin’?” Rangok demanded. 

The leader bared his fangs at Ragnok. The goblin blatantly ignored the threat. 

“Leave ‘em lone” Ragnok gave a haphazard flick of his wrist. Blood tricked down the closest vampire’s neck as they clawed desperately for air. “Or I’ll re-dead ya”. 

“Um, that’s really not necessary” the mop of brown hair pulled nervously at his uniform.

“Grow a spine” Ragnok grunted before half crawling back to his Elf Wine.


	3. Oliver Wood

Oliver Wood admired the new, magical Ridgeback dragon tattoo that sprawled over his shoulder blades and down his spin to the base of his hips. 

Master magical tattoo artist Markus Scarrs was the young and skillful owner of Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos in Knockturn Alley. At first, Oliver had been unsure of getting a tattoo from anyone who owned a seedy looking business in Knockturn Alley. Now he regretted ever doubting Markus. The man was pure genius. 

Oliver was positive Charlie was going to flip his lid when he saw the tattoo. Ridgebacks were Charlie’s favorite dragon species. 

Three more days until Oliver would take a carpet on Aladdin's Fly Carpet Services from London straight to the Romanian Dragon Reserve. Technically Oliver was volunteering as part of a summer program for new grads. He was fairly certain he could fringe interest if it meant spending all summer with Charlie. 

Oliver was slipping his shirt back over his shoulder when a familiar mop of brown hair darted in and out of his field of vision. 

“...Potter?” Oliver muttered. 

“What was that?” Markus asked from his hunched position behind the counter where he was waiting for Oliver to pay. 

“Oh, never mind. I thought I saw my brother’s friend but I’m pretty sure they don’t live anywhere near here.”

“Trick of the light’ Markus offered with a understanding bob of the head. ‘happens to everyone’ he seemed to say. 

For a moment, Oliver thought about racing after the mop of brown hair, just to make sure. He shook the idea off. It was madness to suggest that Harry James Boy, Gryffindor’s Golden Boy and Oliver’s greatest weapon on the quidditch pitch would be racing through Knockturn Alley.


	4. Marcus Flint

Marcus Flint wasn’t going to lie. There was something vindictively satisfying about watching Harry Bloody Potter shuffling through the mix and match kitchenware shelf of the second hard store. 

He watched Potter flip over every plate, bowl and mug that was even remotely useable. The furrowed eyebrows and teeth nibbling at his lower lip let Marcus know that Harry Bloody Potter was broke as shit. He was clearly collecting the cheapest usable kitchen set for one. 

Marcus’s entertainment was interrupted by a pushy werewolf wanting to buy a dented frying pan. Marcus bit back his disgust for the creature. He wasn’t stupid enough to pick a fight this close to a full moon. Instead he case a scourgify on his hands as soon as the mutt left.

Potter finally settled on a faded rose mug, a chipped blue plate with framillar darting snitches painted around the edge, a matching bowl, and frying pan with a ledge high enough to cook soup in it. He brought the whole lot up to the counter where Marcus was lounging. 

“Get kicked out?” Marcus wasn’t sure why it was the first thing out of his mouth. It seemed to trigger Potter though. The boy’s shoulders tensed and his eyes darted this way and that. “Relax Pothead anyone under 21 living in Knockturn alley is a runaway or got kicked out. You’re not a special as you like to think you are.” 

Potter didn’t relax. 

Stuck up little shit. 

“You ran away?”

“Course, wouldn’t be a proper Flint if I didn’t run away from a drunken, abusive father.” It was meant as a joke, but the bleeding heart Gryffindor looked fucking sympathetic. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Save it Golden Boy”

An awkward silence settled between the two as Marcus finished ringing in Potter’s purchases. 

“Are there pick up Quidditch games in Knockturn alley?” Potter asked. His gaze was wondering over the various dark objects in the locked cabinet behind Marcus. 

‘Lonely little looser’ Marcus thought to himself. To Potter he said, “20 Knuts. Yeah, every Tuesday and Thursday. I go right after work. Come tomorrow night at 10 with your broom. I’ll show you how to get to the pitch.” 

Potter’s eyes lit up, “Thanks Flint”. Fucking eager little puppy. At least this way, Flint guaranteed he got Potter on his team and wouldn’t suffer anymore embarrassing defeats at the hand of a first year seeker with dazzling luck.


	5. Malvin Douglas

Malvin Douglas lived to travel. When he had been offered a co-op at a Dragon Reserve in Romania he had packed up his meager possessions in Vancouver and flown right out. His work with international Dragon Research team was done now, though. He was free to go wherever he pleased. 

Charlie Weasley, am eccentric redhead of about the same age grew had provided a list of must see places in England so it was Malvin’s first stop. 

So far, Malvin’s favorite place was the White Wyvern.

The dimly lit pub was filled with loud, chaotic patrons of every background. Roady young vampires in a booth near the back. Al pack of werewolfs argued, growled and barked over a card game. A cluster of goblins quietly drank away their stress at the bar.

Malvin took no time at all to grab a drink and find others to sit with. He spent most of the evening drifting between groups and listening to their stories. 

Throughout the evening, Malvin heard many interesting stories about the only wizard welcome in the bar. He was a young lad with a mop of brown hair who worked hard busking tables and serving customers. 

Melvin was intrigued. When he saw the lad was off work, he waved him over. 

“Well if you’re off. Come have a pint with me.”

“I can’t sorry-”

“Nonsense. It’s on me.” Melvin caught sight of the bar owner. “Sir? Sir! I’m stealing one of your lads. Send him a pint would you? Add it to my tab.”

The lumbering giant gave a long, low chuckle. “That’s a lad James. Go make some friends.” His voice shock the pillars of the pub and thunder over the loud chatter of the pub. 

The boy looked longingly at the back door before settling himself across from, “Melvin Douglas, Canadian Dragonologist.”

“James Evans” The boy shock Melvins hand. The boy’s firm grip showed assurance despite the quiet demeanour. “My brother’s friend is a dragonologist. He works in Romania”

“Really? I just got back from Romania.”

“Charlie Weasley?”

“He was on my expedition team. Smart lad, real natural with dragons. He’s the one who suggested his bar actually.”

“Really? I didn’t know Charlie comes here.”

“Well I imagine with his work in Romania he hasn’t been here in a while, but he certainly seemed fond of the place.” 

The lad cast fresh eyes around the bar. Malvin wondered absently what new revelations the boy was having about Charlie. 

“You travel around the world?” James asked. 

Melvin grinned, “Oh yeah. I travel constantly. I must say though. I have a soft spot for Canada and that’s not just because I have better rights there.”

“Better rights?” The lad looked him up and down and didn’t seem to find anything unusual. 

“I’m an elf.” The lad looked skeptical. “Not a house elf.” Melvin chucked suddenly acutely aware that his voice had a cracking fall leaf quality about it.

The revelation didn’t seem to make much difference to the lad. Melvin know at once that a friendship was born.


	6. Jason Samuels

“Jason Samuels would you pick up your fucking bat!” Marcus Flint yelled from his broom, hovering six meters off the ground. 

Jason Samuels, a Ravenclaw, was preoccupied with reading the muggle car manual he had attached to his broom with a sticking charm. 

Potter grabbed his own broom and dashed passed the Ravenclaw, “Jason, next time you won’t get the book till the end of the game!”

As far as Jason was concern, Potter had nothing to complain about. The trade was an entire crate of fresh vegetables for one book. The crate was currently sitting under a litany of protections Potter had cast on it. 

Jason could only wonder how many of Potter’s things had been stolen already for the lad to use over a dozen protection charms on everything he owned. 

Even the car manual had at least a half a dozen anti-theft charms on it. 

“JASON!” someone screamed on the other end of the pitch.

Begrudging, Jason turned from his book long enough to send a bludger sailing away from his team mate and straight into the gut of a homeschooled street rat that was on the other team. 

The impromptu quidditch game dodged in between buildings around Knockturn alley. 

Holla Hoops were charmed to the sides of fire escapes and old iron bars were used as bats for the beaters. There was only one bludger and no snitch. They used a muggle football as a substitute for a quaffle and no one had a decent broom. In fact, three of the street rats were fly home made brooms that only flew most of the time. 

Potter dodged a street rat and slipped around the edge of the tattoo building and into the back alley where the other team’s hops were. Jason could hear the telltale sounds of confliction whoops of joy and shouts of anger as Potter put the ball through a hoop. 

Jason jetted around the building in time to see one of the street rats take a cheap shot at Potter. Potter dodged it with ease. The street rat went face first into the brick work of the nearest building. His broom fell out from under him and the idiot went tumbling to the ground. 

Jason looked up at Potter, half hoping Potter knew some basic healing magic. The blank panicky look told him everything Jason needed to know. 

Jason landed his broom beside the street rate and stretched his hands over the boy. He used pure magic and instinct to mend bones and stich the muscles back together. 

“What about under aged magic restrictions” Potter fretted at his elbow.

“That only counts if you used a wand”

“Oh…” Potter muttered dumbly. “You don’t have to use a wand?”

“Merlin no” The street rat bellow wheezed in pain, “just takes more energy without one. Plus you have to really concentrate. No short cuts by using fancy spells or charms. Wandless magic is all about intent and will.” 

Potter looked around the alley. The fifth year’s gaze settled on a trash can. Potter stretched out his hand and with seemingly little effort, he levitated the can up into the air for a moment before gently settling it down on the pavement. 

A thin but noticeable layer of sweat collected around Potter’ brow. 

“An impress first try” the street rat whistled. 

Jason was done mending him, but the broom was past repair. 

“Guess I’m out of the game for today. Check you two later” the street rat gave a flippant wave of his hand over his shoulder as he strutted out of the dark musky back alley and into the seedy thoroughfare.


	7. Marcus Flint 2

“Well shit Potter, you weren’t kidding about not owning anything” Marcus Flint put down the large standing lamp he had stolen from work and wandered the nearly empty apartment. 

There was Potter’s trunk sitting under a window with three unmatching, shabby pillows on top to make it look more like a bench. Beside the trunk was a medium sized potted plant. Flint vaguely recognized it as a magical plant of some kind but he had no idea what it was. 

In the kitchen there was a sink, an oven, a cold box, and a counter barely big enough for a cutting board. Potter had put a salvaged wicker basket on top of the cold box and filled with freshly baked bread. 

The chairs were wooden apple crates turned upside down with frayed cushions from the pub Potter worked at. The table legs was made out of milk crates with a door resting on top. 

“Call me Evans, Flint. I don’t want to be found” Potter sounded dog tired. His frame had shrunk yet again so his already baggy clothes fell around him like a bedsheet over a lamp post. 

Flint settled himself on one of the overturned apple crates. “You got it James Evans. Anything for a home cooked meal. You’re eating too right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? This is my apartment.”

“Yeah, but you look like you haven’t eaten a mouse’s meal in a week.” 

Potter turn away from Flint, hiding his reaction to the truth. Flint shrugged it off. It was of no concern to him if Potter starved to death in his depression. Potter wouldn’t be the first or last Knockturn Alley residence to die of neglect. 

“So, what's to eat?”

In way of answer, Potter pulled from the oven a chipped casserole dish filled with rice, chicken and some mysterious red sauce. A tray of nana bread followed. 

“What is it?”

“Food.”

“Yeah I got that Evans, thanks.” 

Flint watched Potter serve himself first but when the boy took only half ladle of rice, Flint filled up a ladle of mostly meat and plopped it onto Potter’s plate before serving himself. Potter looked unimpressed but didn’t actually put the food back.

“Fuck Merlin’s ass, what the shit did you put in this hell hound’s shit!” Flint’s mouth was on fire. The red sauce was spicy enough to kill a crocodile. 

Potter had the audacity to smirk. “A friend introduced me to a new spice.” Potter indicated to the vaguely familiar magical plant beside his trunk. “It’s from India”

“Your friend?”

“The plant. Melvin is from Canada.”

“Where did you get the table from?”

Potter ran a hand over the white peeling paint of the door. It was well past rustic and flirting with ancient. There was no door knob on the door, whether that was Potter's design or how he found it, Flint could only guess.

“The tenant on the downstairs unit had a row with her boyfriend: he ran for it, she sent a bombarda. The door was too damaged to repair so I nicked it from the trash and cleaned it off. It works well enough.”

“How are your neighbours?”

“As good as most in Knockturn alley. They yell, they fight, they sing drunken songs at all hours. Occasionally they break in, steal all my shit.”

“Occasionally? That’s happened more than once?”

Potter hunched into his food. His fingers curled tightly around his fork. “Potter I ain't judging you for being broken into. Look, how about this. Make me dinner again tomorrow and I will put up some basic defenses around your door frame. It aint nothing fancy but it might help ward off the less dedicated thieves.”

Potter didn’t answer but he also didn’t object which Flint took to mean he was ok with it. 

“How was work?” Potter asked. He unfurled himself a bit and looked up to meet Flint’s eyes. 

Whatever drove Potter to run away from home was taking it’s toll on the boy, but Potter wasn’t one to give up easily. Already he was patching up the wounds and working towards healing himself. Flint was envious of his tenacity. It was just the sort of thing a Knockturn Alley resident needs to survive.


	8. Markus Scarrs

Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos was one in a long line of tattoo parlours to exist in the forever crumbling, ash covered bricks of Knockturn alley. Before Markus had bought out the business, his cousin’s friend’s father had owned the shop. Then it had been called Maxwell Evergreen Indelible Tattoos. 

Since Markus Scarrs had bought the store he had changed exactly two things. The sign outside the door and the paperwork at the Ministry. Every owner of the tattoo parlour seemed to understand that there was an underlying magic to the store that should under no circumstance be disrupted. 

Markus, being young when he first bought the shop, was deeply afraid of touching or moving something that would disturb the centuries of magic. His caution had gotten a little out of hand though. Not wanting to move anything meant not disturbing any of the dust that settled like snow on every stagnant surface. Even Markus’ hair had begun to collect a fine layer of dust on particularly slow days. 

There was no escaping it. The store needed a huge clean. The project was going to be big though. Like all of Markus’ problems, he tried to ignore it until it went away. But nearly three months after realizing he desperately needed to clean and nothing had happened. Well a small family of spiders had moved into the shop window and set up a large intricate spider web that sparkled different colours in the moonlight, but that was hardly a sign of improvement. 

Markus knew something had to change but he didn’t know what to do, the project just seemed to big to handle on his own. 

He was thinking about his options across the alley in the White Wyvern pub, when the solution came to him. 

He could hire someone else to clean up the shop for him. It would give him a chance to work on the paperwork he had been procrastinating and to draw up some new tattoo designs.

If he could, Markus wanted to hire the mop of brown hair that was currently scrubbing blood off the table the rowdy vampires had just left. 

Markus finished his Whiskey, paid, and settled himself outside the backdoor of the pub to waiting for the lad.

Makus only had to wait a quarter of an hour. The boy stumbled out, his shoulders were hunched, and postured slumped over. He looked as if his bones were so tired they had refused to stand straight anymore. 

The lads clothes were thread barren, his face was gaunt from too little food, and looked much too tired to be getting a full, comfortable nights sleep continuously. 

“Hey! Hey boy!” Markus called out. His voice cut through the frosty night air and curled around the stiffened frame of the boy. 

The mop of brown hair muttered to himself, “Not again”. Much louder he called out, “I don’t have anything.” 

“Lad, I ain't looking to jump ya.”

“Oh…”

“I wanted to offer you a job.”

“In the alley?” The lad finally looked up from the cobbled stone and up to Markus. The boy’s eye were wide and he was already starting to backtrack to the bar door. “I’m not really looking for that kind of work.” His voice wavered. 

“Cleaning jobs? You don’t do cleaning jobs? Boy you spend all evening at the bar cleaning.”

The lad was trying to open the back door of the pub without looking too frantic. He was halfway into a rather forceful pull when he visibly stilled. 

“You waited in a dark alley at two in the morning to offer a cleaning job?” The mop of brown hair asked incredulously. 

“Yes, well, I need my tattoo parlour cleaned thoroughly and I don’t want to do it myself.”

“Markus?”

“Obviously, who did you think I was?”

“Shit, don’t do that to me. I thought I was being jumped again.”

“What kind of job did you think I was offering you?”

The mop of brown hair blushed and turned away. Clearly not keen on talking more about it. 

“You regularly propositioned for that kind of work?”

The lad didn’t answer but his stiff unyielding posture was answer enough. “Tell ya what, I’ll pay ya 20 Gallons and 3 anti-violence pendants to make my parlour sparkle. You can pay for food, rent and get a little protection out of it. And regardless of whether you take the job, if you’re ever being harassed, you come to my store and I’ll tell ‘em what's bothering you where they can stick their offers, ya?”

“Ya.”

“So you’ll do it? You’ll scrub the shop?”

“Sure thing. Let me go home, shower and take a nap first though. I can be at your shop for 8 a.m.”

Markus waved the kid off, “Make it 10. I’ll bring coffee and breakfast.”

“Deal”.


	9. Ragnok 2

“Come in Evans.” Ragnok opened his front door as wide as he could to accommodate Potter. The boy was more filled out than when Ragnok had first meet him, but he was still thin and hunched over enough to look positively ordinary in Ragnarok's small home. 

Ragnok lived in the Goblin district of Knockturn alley. The houses here were smaller than every other district. They all were designed like a variety of bubbles interconnection with one another, no room was perfectly circular but they were all unmistakably round. Every house looked like rolling hillside.

Potter looked around the living room curiously. His clever eyes took in all the details. Ragnok approved of the boys natural curiosity and shrewdness. Clearly, Evans had already mentally marked every viable hiding spot, exit and useable weapon in the room. 

“I wrote up one of my father’s old recipes: roasted Dropbear and onions, Stone bread, and fried Yam and Murtlap salad. None of these recipes are sacred to the family. My pa just made ‘em up one night. I’ve written them all down.” Ragnok handed over the three new recipe cards to Evans. 

The boy beamed.

Several night ago, Ragnok had settled into a nice drunken stupor at the pub when Evans walked by. The boy had just finished his shift busing tables.

Ragnok had a soft spot for the wizard ever since he saved the lad from the annoying rowdy vampires. Ragnok had insisted the lad sit for a drink and a plate of deep fried Wendigo fingers. Evans tried one before adamantly refusing to eat any more. 

Evans had admitted to being a muggle born who never knowing ate magical food. Certainly not any Creature favourites like deep fried Wendigo fingers. At the time Ragnok had thought nothing of it, but the thought lodged itself into his brain. It festered. As time went, Ragnok came to think of it as a great tragedy that someone as accepting and curious as James Evans had no practical experience with Creature foods. 

So cooking lessons had started. When Evans could fit it into his schedule, he came to Ragnok’s house to learn how to cook various Goblin recipes. Nothing sacred to the family, but general well know foods that everyone should try. 

Evans grabbed an apron off the hook by the kitchen door and followed Ragnok. 

“First things first, we needed to make the Stone Bread so it can raise a bit before we bake it.”   
Ragnok ordered Evans around the small kitchen and down into the cellar and pantry. The boy had obviously cooked regularly for his muggle family. He didn’t need instructions on how to cut, chop, slices, or dice. But, He was utterly useless at using pure magic to do anything. 

Nearly two hours later, the two stood at Ragnarok's kitchen table having just set down the various dishes. 

“Now, most important of all Evans is that you never make Goblin food for just you. You absolutely have to invite others.” 

Right on cue, a rapping came at the door. 

Ragnok motioned to the kitchen, “start cleaning up a bit, I’ll greet the guest and get them seated.”

Evans nodded good naturedly. He wore a rare simple smile of genuine pleasure as he turned to the kitchen sink to scrub pots and pans. 

Ragnok went to his front door and welcomed his cousin and their wife and child. 

“Now, I invited you for a reason cousin.”

“Not just my charming company?” His cousin teaesed. They liked each other well enough, but there was no great connection beyond familial bonds. Major holidays was the only time they exchanged pleasantries over a home cooked meal. 

Hmph. “No, I invited you because I’ve a wizard I’m teaching how to cook”. Ragnok ignored his cousin’s obvious shock, “You work with the lot all the time. He doesn’t know squat about Golbin traditions or norms. Gentle corrections and a lot of patience is needed. Alright?”

“If we behave, do we get invited back for more free food?” His cousin’s son’s asked. 

“Astroph,” Ragnarok's cousin said testily, “you’re more than old enough to behave.”

Astroph, despite being a fully grown Goblin quickly come up to midage, looked entirely unrepentant. 

“Well, dinner’s this way.” Ragnok lead the trio into his dining room. He got them all seated then went to the kitchen.

Evans was leaning against the counter. A pile of clean dishes drying on the rack behind him. Evans straightened and tried to look at ease when he caught sight of Ragnok, but the Goblin had seen the boy worrying at his fingers and looking longingly at the front door for an escape. 

“Come on Evans, time to face the music” 

“Oh! -” Ragnok’s cousin leaped up from his chair.

The lad interrupted whatever was about to be said, “James Evans sir” 

“Professor Filius Flitwick “ Filius looked doubtfully at the lad. There was something on the tip of his tongue that he clearly wanted to say but he bite it back. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir” Evans said politely. 

Filius swallowed whatever he was going to say to the lad to the great relief of Evans.

After that, the meal went well. The food was good and the boy, as always, was thoughtful and respectful company. Deep down, Ragnok was pleased his family was so patient towards the only wizard Ragnok had ever come to like.


	10. Mr. Mulpepper

“I must say young Markus, it's fine work you’ve done on your shop” Mr. Mulpepper looked around the tattoo parlour. He had a firm respect for anyone who could unearth such beauty from what was once a discarded wasteland of spiderwebs and dust. 

The tattoo parlour sparkled with all the glory that it once held a century ago. The leather seats were all well scrubbed and patched up with magic and muscle. The windows had been scraped clean of the layers of yellowing stain. The floor, which had started to look like carpet, had been swept, scrubbed, and polished until the warm wooden planks were once again visible. The paint on the walls was touched up to hid the long gashes. The old paint was cleared of the darkening layers of dust. The room was once again, open, bright and welcoming. 

“You ever meet the new lad at the pub?” Markus asked. 

Mr. Mulpepper handed over his fine, french outer jacket to be hung up on the newly polished coat rack. He stripped off his tie, vest and grey button up dress shirt. 

“I’ve seen the lad, but we haven’t been properly introduced, no”.

“Well, I was looking at my shop and I was watching the lad when it came to me. I ought to hire him to clean. The lad shows up here not hours after I offer him the gig. Now mind you, he’s just got off working at the pub. I went up to do my paper work, have a bit of a lie in and the like. I come down to open up shop just a few hours later and the lads just finishing alphabetizing my books.” Markus waved vaguely at the bookcase near the back of the shop where he kept volumes of tattoo designs. 

Mr. Mulpepper settled himself onto the chair and extended his left arm for Markus to work with. He was adding a new species of plant to the garden tattoo that covered his entire left arm. Mr. Mulpepper had grown his first Copper tree to full maturity, so it would be added to the growing magical garden on his arm as a mark of achievement. 

“The boy did all of this in only a day?”

“After already busting his rump at the pub.” Markus tapped his wand against the desired colour block and began tracing the new plant on Mr. Mulpepper's arm. 

“I ought to have the boy do my Apothecary. It could certainly use a spring clean.”

“The boy didn’t charge much at all. It felt a bit like theft to be frank. He was happy with 20 Gallons and a couple protection charms. The boy’s hardly more than a few sticks of beech wood wound together though. I’d felt like a real monster given him just that after seeing this place. I have him 50 Gallons, the three protection charms, and a tattoo of his choice.”

Mr. Mulpepper mulled over the idea as he let Markus work uninterrupted. He could certainly afford 50 Gallons if it meant his shop looked as clean and revived as the Tattoo parlour now did. Mr. Mulpepper had a few old cauldrons in his spare room he could part with. He could fill them up with some bottles of useful potion ingredients for the lad. 

When Markus was done his work, Mr. Mulpepper pulled from his outer coat the agreed price of three vials of Black Tar Peebles. 

“They bloody tripled the price” Markus grumbled. “Brazil having some kinda war or something? Why in the name of Dragon’s breath are they so damn expensive?”

Mr. Mulpepper could only shrug. 

“You know I need Black Tar Peebles for practically every tattoo design? How am I to stay in business if I go about tripling prices? Ain't possible, no how. Not hear in Knockturn it ain't! You may well get away with that tomfoolery out there in Diagon, but not no way down here.”

“The boy” Mr. Mulpepper cut in. “How could I contact the lad to clean my shop?”

“Evans? James Evans? You can just about always find him at the pub after 5. Otherwise, he plays Quidditch in the streets. I hear him whooping and snarling ‘round the shop often enough. He’s a fast bugger on a broom. Mark my word, if anyone with half a brain and say in the professional quidditch teams saw him playing they’d swoop in and grab him quick as anything.”

Mr. Mulpepper thanked Markus and excused himself from the store. He headed across the alley to the White Wyvern pub. 

Sure enough, the described mop of brown hair was darting diligently between tables. In the past few weeks, the lad had clearly made himself indispensable. He now not only bussed tables, but he played host and waiter as well. He seemed to fill every gap in the pub’s service. He worked hard, and efficiently to make the entire operation run smoothly. 

The pub owner, a mild mannered giant from the mountains, beamed every time he saw the boy. Mr. Mulpepper would expect such favouritism to sour the lad relations with the other workers, but it didn’t.

The bartender ruffled the lad’s hair as he passed. A beautiful waitress with sashaying hips gave Evans and peck on the cheek after he kindly helped her deliver a couple of plates. The boy was both a leader and a team player. 

Mind, the lad was far too patient with the customers in Mr. Mulpepper's option. A group of rowdy vampires made a snapping motion at the boy’s wrist when he delivered a bottle of Elven Blood to their table. The boy dodged the fangs but otherwise didn’t react. 

Mr. Mulpepper seated himself at a booth and waited for the lad to bring him his drink. When he did, he gave the boy his proposition. The boy’s eyes lit up and he eagerly agreed. He would be at Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary at 8 am the next day ready to work.


	11. Marcus Flint

Marcus shuffled through the crates of donations that had just gotten flung through the floo. He tried to imagine the Hippogryph lamp sitting in Potter’s room but the only things coming to mind was Potter chucking the monstrosity at his head. 

Potter had a proper kitchen table now thanks to Ragnok, the goblin that regularly warmed a seat at Potter’s pub.

Potter also had a weather beaten couch from the downstairs tenant as a thank you gift. Potter had kindly looked after the middle aged women for nearly a week when she had caught a nasty strain of dragon pox. The women worked a second hand furniture store. The day she was well enough to head back to work, she had showed up at Potters with the admittedly hideous couch. 

Potter was so touched (in the head) he had refused to set it on fire like Marcus Flint had suggest every time he came over for dinner. 

Still, despite the new addition, Potter’s apartment was spartenos. In part due to Potter’s busy schedule and in part due to a very limited budget the little apartment looked entirely unlived in. 

Marcus had made it his mission to change that through a mixture of crashing on Potter’s couch, eating all his food and bringing him whatever looked useful and easily stolen from his work at the second hand shop in Knockturn Alley. 

Today’s donations were largely a bust. 

Whoever was clean house clearly had no taste. 

Marcus was nearly about to give up and go back to the front desk when he pried open one last crate. It was filled to the brim with kitchen and potion supplies. 

Potter now worked an insane three side jobs. He still worked full time at the pub but now he also cook, cleaned, and brewed potions for various people in the Alley for a nominal fee. The work made the boy more busy than rich. 

Most people would have shriveled up with the stressful, busy schedule but not Potter. If anything he seemed to thrive on it. He was finally starting to fill out. His clothes still didn’t fit properly but short of eating an entire whale they weren’t ever going to. 

Potion and kitchen supplies were just the sort of thing Potter could use. They would make him happy, lesson some of his work, and help him earn money. All things Marcus supported. 

Rather than document the crate of goods, Marcus pushed the whole things back over to the fire and shoved it in to be floo’d over to his house. He would sort out what was decent for Potter and sell the rest on the street. 

Marcus was aware he should unpack the rest of the crates, but he wasn’t one to do more work than he had to. He marked down what was donated and headed back up front to slouched behind the front counter and watch the patrienes. 

If the boss questioned him later about it, he would claim werewolves were in the shop all day. The shop owner hated the mangy mutts as much as Marcus did. The light fingered flee bags were a mutual hatred that often got Marcus out of doing more work than he wanted too. 

That night after work Marcus Flint shuffled through the crate in his bachelor's apartment and settled on a Potion knife set for tonight.

He locked up his home and wandered down the streets of Knockturn Alley, careful to avoid the vampires that followed him hungrily and the hags that made grabbing motions at him as he passed. 

Potter looked entirely unsurprised to find Marcus at his door step when he got home from work. 

“Here for dinner?” Potter asked. Flint noted that Potter was entirely friendly towards him these days. All of Flints idiosyncrasies that drove his fellow Slytherins to hate him seemed to just brush off Potter as unimportant. 

Flint offered the set of knives in way of answer. It was tradition to offer something in return for food though Flint was fairly certain at this point he could easily show up to Potter’s empty handed. 

“I’m making goblin food tonight.”

“One of Ragnarok's recipes?” Marcus didn’t know the goblin personally but he had heard more than enough from Potter to get a good feeling for the goblin. 

Potter nodded. He took the knives from Marcus, “Theses are great! I really need separate knives for potions!”

Marcus bulked, “You use the same knives you cook with!” Frog spleen had been mixed with his meats, Marcus nearly upchucked right there in the middle of Potters prestain apartment. 

Potter didn’t answer. 

Marcus tried desperately to whip the thought from his head as best he could. 

“How was work?”

“Boring. We got lots of donations but practically no business. I blame the weather. As soon as it starts to rain in the summer everyone goes to the bar. No one goes into the shops when it pisses in the summer.”

“It was insane at the pub today.” Potter agreed. 

Marcus watched Potter flutter around the room. He moved with the certainty and confidence of hours of practice. The boy was entirely in his element when he was preparing food or potions. 

“Anyone interesting come into work today?”

“The vampires came again.”

“I swear if they accost you one more time I will rip their fangs out with plyers.” Marcus grumbled. 

Potter waved him off, “The boss ended up throwing them out today. They tried to jump me after my shift-” Marcus jumped from his eat on the couch in rage. “Relax, Ragnok saw them and sent them on their way.” 

“Bleeding head to toe I hope” Marcus seethed. Flint fantasized about being there instead of Ragnok. He would have ripping those damn vampires limb from limb and then putting their still breathing remains on the roof of a building to be burned up by the sun. 

Potter shuffled uncomfortably in the kitchen, “Well they weren’t in the best of shapes.”

“Good.” 

“They aren’t so bad.” 

Marcus sent Potter an incredulous look that shut him up for nearly an hour while he finished preparing dinner. 

When the food was finally on the table, conversation resumed when Marcus brought up the German Quidditch team Heidelberg Harriers recent crushing defeat at the hand of the Bulgarian Vratsa Vultures. 

Potter smiled more easily these days. The depression that had haunted him seemed to be fading with time. Marcus let pride settled over himself. Knockturn Alley would not snuff out this light. Marcus would make sure of it.


	12. Remus Lupin

Remus John Lupin had spent a good portion of his young adult life with Hungarian werewolf pack that owned a run down apartment building in Knockturn Alley. The leader of the pack, Kolos Farkas, never insisted in Remus officially joining the pack. Remus, like many other European werewolfs, joined and left the Farkas Pack at a whim. 

Two years ago Remus had left the pack to join the staff at Hogwarts. When he lost his job, he had gone to live with Sirius. Remus loved living with his old school mate but Azkaban had not been kind to Sirius’ physical or mental state. He needed help that Remus couldn’t provided and Remus needed a brake. 

Which left Remus packing his meager possession and flooing to the run down, half shredded front entrance of the Farkas Pack apartment building. 

“Remus!” Kolos grinned ear to ear. He was lounging comfortably in his favorite leather chair watching the coming and goings of the building. The salt and pepper shade of his hair did nothing to diminish from his looks. Even well into his 50’s, Kolos was the best looking Werewolf in the country. “Are you back then?”. 

Remus shrugged.

Kolos pulled from around his neck a sinew cord with a set of three keys hanging from it. “I have an apartment on the third floor clean and available. Mail box is on the main level, don’t copy any of the keys please. And don’t give out the floo password. Same rules as usual.” 

Remus couldn’t help but feel relieved at being so readily welcomed back. “Is there anything I can do?”

Kolos chewed on his bottom lip, “You taught at Hogwarts?” 

Remus nodded. 

Kolos pulled his left knee up to his chest, flexing his bare toes. He settled his foot against the chair cushion, half curling into himself. “Well we have a couple of new youngsters in the building.” The fact that they would never go to Hogwarts was left unsaid. Remus was well aware that he was an anomaly among his kind. “There has been talk of starting up a little school for the building. Perhaps you could spend a couple of mornings teaching the youngsters. Reading, writing, maybe a couple of basic potions, that sort of thing.” 

“I’d love to,” Remus genuinely loved teaching. He was more than happy to take up the mantle of professor again. 

Kolos gave an easy grin, “perfect. All meals paid for and prepared for if you can teach Monday - Friday 8:00 am to 11:30 am.”   
Kolos seemed content with the agreement. He mentioned casually that whole pack meals were taken together on Saturday and Sunday at 6 p.m. but then he switched to the local gossip of Knockturn Alley. Remus stay to chat for an hour before excusing himself to go set up his apartment. 

It didn’t take long for Remus to feel an intense gratitude towards Kolos and his pack. Here, Remus was not asked to be anything more than he was. 

Remus desperately needed the freedom this understanding allowed him. He needed to escape the unachievable expectations Sirius, Dumbledore and the entire bloody Order put on him. Just for the summer at least. He just needed a short reprieve from pretending he wasn’t a werewolf. 

…

Teaching really was Remus’ favorite career choice. He had been back to Knockturn Alley now for a week and he felt truly relaxed for the first time in ages. It had only been a week and Remus was already seeing tons of improvement. Rose Stillwater, an eight year old purebred werewolf who had never been introduced to writing before, could already identify half the alphabet!

Today was Saturday though. Remus spent the day planning his lessons for the next week and taking tea with some of the elderly werewolfs in the building. When evening came, Remus had the most particular feeling. 

Remus felt comfortable in the Farkas Pack apartment complex but none of the werewolfs felt like true pack. Yet, near 5 p.m. Remus could have sworn a member of his pack was in the building. 

At first, Remus thought to ignore it, but it bothered him. Particularly when he thought about what pack members he had left. Sirius was suppose to be in hiding receiving intensive therapy and Harry was suppose to be living with muggles. Both had the annoying and enduring habit of getting into trouble. 

Remus left his apartment and headed down the stairs to the bottom floor were the feeling was the strongest. Kolos was seated in his usual leather winged chair reading his favorite copy of Hairy Snout, Human Heart. 

“Remus?” Kolos read Remus’ body language. Remus was hunting for something. He went to approach the hall, but Kolos sprung up in front of him, blocking the doors. “The hall isn’t open yet, Remus. Dinner isn’t until 6.”

“There is someone in there.” Remus insisted. He tried to walk around Kolos. A hand curled around his shoulder digging into his collarbone. 

“The hall isn’t open. The wizard pup has my word that he will not be interrupted or harassed.”

“I’m not going to harass him.”

Kolos barred his teeth and growled. 

Remus growled back. 

Kolos’ gripped tightened, but Remus merely growled louder. Kolos darted forward and took Remus’ throat between his jaws. Remus titled his head back and let him. Remus knew he was not the pack leader here, Kolos was. He kept a low growl though. After all, he disagreed with Kolos. 

Kolos was satisfied with Remus reluctant submission. He took a step back and let his own growl end. 

Remus followed suit. “The boy, he is part of my pack.” Remus could smell him now. Amid the tantalizing aroma of food was the very familiar smell of one Harry James Potter. “He is pup from my pack.”

Kolos nodded slowly as if the pieces of a puzzle in his mind were fitting together. “He smelt a bit like a shifter. He said he wasn’t a Jagwere or a Selkie but I suppose it would make sense if he was part of a pack. He never mentioned you though.”

Remus ignored Kolo’s obvious judgement. It was clear Kolos was not impressed with how Remus lead his own pack. Remus tried not to think to hard on his own disgust with his leadership. He was currently running away from the only other adult in his pack.

Still, Kolos stepped aside and let Remus enter the hall. 

“Pup?”

A very familiar mop of brown hair swirled around. Wide eyed the body automatically responded, “James Evans.”

Remus grinned, “Well James. I am very surprised to see you here.”

The boy had the decency to blush. He pulled at his shirt. It was a new magical, graphic shirt from Midnight Sun. The image was of a howling werewolf with three pups pouncing on each other. Remus tried not to let his amusement show. 

“I will help you set up, but then you must stay and tell me why and how you came to live in Knockturn Alley.”

Harry James Potter gave a lopsided grin but nodded in agreement. Part of Remus wanted to firecall the headmaster at once. A larger, more selfish part of him was desperate to be close to his own pack again.


	13. Harry Potter 2

Harry Potter settled the last tray of empty glasses at the edges of the sink. Megan, the pub’s cleaner gave a flick of her wrist from across the room. The glassed flew themselves into the sink and began washing and rinsing in the fresh sink of water. 

“I think the busiest time has past, Evans. Head home, get some sleep. You look half dead on your feet.”

Potter worried at his lower lip. He appreciated that Megan seemed to keep an eye on his health, but she had sent him home early every day this week and yet their boss, a kindly Giant, insisted on paying him his full wage. 

“Maybe tomorrow Megan.” 

Megan took the tray from Potter and darted forward, pulling his apron strings apart. Potter jerked to the side in surprise. Megan used the movement to pull the apron off entirely. She gave him a smug smile, laughing outright at the lads begrudging acceptance. 

“You’ve done enough today. Plus you came in half an hour early today and skipped your two 15s so you’re really not leaving that early.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes out you go!”

Potter let Megan shoo him out the back door of the White Wyvern pub.

Harry Potter had long gotten use to the eerie stillness of the pitch black alley way. More on instinct than on sight, Potter found his way down the uneven path and into the larger back alley. 

This alley was large enough to accommodate groups of people. It housed several overflowing garbage bins and a pile of half burnt furniture a block down from the pub. 

Generally, this main alley played host to the many sleeping homeless or truly sloshed pub patrons. Tonight it was empty. 

Potter paused at the mouth of the bisection between his familiar inky black alley and the better lit, garbage alley. 

No one sleeping under the garbage bags was a bad sign. It was the kind of sign that meant Potter should turn on his heels and beeline it back to the pub. 

He would have done so if he hadn't felt a puff of chilled breath on the back of his throat. 

Potter scampered forward and spun to look behind him. The shadows of the alley shrouded the individual standing where Potter had just been. The only visible parts were the bloody red eyes and marblelike sabour teeth. 

“Fuck off” Potter growled. The figure stepped forward. It was the leader of the small troupe of vampires that had been harassing Potter for weeks. Like snakes emerging from a still lake, four more vampires creeped from the dark alley and into the moonlight. 

They said nothing. They made no noise: no breathing, no whispering, no rustling of clothes or soft footsteps on the cobble stone. 

Potter trotted backwards, keeping his eyes ever focused on the group. He tried to keep his heart from raising but he knew he was failing based on the lead vampires nefarious glee.

Potter weighted his option. He could fight, run, or try and talk his way out of it. There were five vampires. Potter couldn’t even defeat Malfoy and his two lackeys on his own. Potter didn’t stand a chance against all five vampires. That being said, he couldn’t out run them either. 

Talk was useless. If he could talk his way out of their harassment he would have done so several weeks ago. 

‘When in doubt, compromise’ Potter thought to himself. A quick scan of his surroundings gave Potter an idea. With an eruption of pure magic, Potter managed to break the legs of one vampire. Simultaneously sent the a pile of broken furniture cascading down on the remaining four.

Before the vampires could react, Potter turned and sprinted towards the nearest alley branch. 

This alley was hardly big enough for one person which meant that the remaining four vampires had to chase him single file. Potter sent a blast of pure energy haphazardly behind him. The first vampire jumped out of the way. The second ducked but the third didn’t have time to react. She was hit square in the stomach and sent tumbling into the vampire behind her. 

Potter could hear her scramble back up, but a cry of pain told him the fourth vampire was out of the chase. 

Never breaking pace, Potter decked left around a pile of old cauldrons and blindly picked a new alley to run along. The two vampires closest to him caught his movements but the female lost too much time in her scramble up off the cobble stone. She ran straight and was gone from the chase. 

Three down, two to go. Potter tired to focus on the optimism. The fact that the remaining two vampires were quickly gaining ground made it hard to focus. 

Potter forced himself to run a little fast. ‘Stay calm, stay calm’ he repeated over to himself. The adrenaline made it easier to run but harder to think. 

Potter banked hard left and ran blindly down another alley. A fence cut the alley in two. 

Without breaking stride Potter ran head on. He sent out a wave of magic ahead of himself and used it as a springboard to launch himself over the fence. The vampires had to climb over but their sluggishness only bought Potter a half a second or so.

It was something. Potter turned left, right and right again heading from a familiar stretch of back alley that was cut into 16 separate pieces. There were huge metal gates between each segment. Potter vaulted himself over each gate. When he leaped over the last, Potter sent a shockwave of magic beneath himself to make a large gaping pit.

The leader of the vampires caught himself before falling in, and skirted around it. His second in command was less cautious and went head first into the pit. He survived the fall, but was too injured to continue the chase. 

‘Four down’ Potter sprinted on. He was out of breath, his muscles aches and the adrenaline was fading in his system. At this point, Potter had used up his first, second and third wind and without a wand, every spell cast cost a significant amount of magic. 

The leader of the vampires was at no such disadvantage. He kept a steady pace for the next half hour while Potter lead him down a long windy chase through the back alleys of Knockturn. 

Finally, Potter stumbled. His legs giving out under him and sending him tumbling to the ground at the door step of an ornate looking alley house. 

The door of the house opened just as the leader lept at Potter’s throat.

Potter screwed his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable. It never came. Instead, cool hands slipped under his knees and behind his back and lifted him off the stone. 

Potter looked up in surprise. A Malfoy who looked too old to be Draco and too young to be Lucious carried Potter into the house and set him down on a couch to rest. 

“Who are you?”

“Abraxas Malfoy, head of the Knockturn Alley Coven. I understand one of my children has been harassing you?” 

Potter gapped. There was a vampire Malfoy running Knockturn?! ‘Well if there was a Malfoy vampire, it was no surprise that they would be rich and powerful’ Potter reasoned with himself. 

“Take a moment to rest. I have sent Cornex away. Your are James Evans? I have heard a great deal about you. I understand you have been studying Goblin cuisine with Ragnok and Werewolf cuisine for the Farkas Pack?”

Potter nodded numbly. 

“Perhaps you would be interested in vampiric cuisine? I am making blood brownies.”

Potter thought better of saying no. It would be fair rude to snub his nose at the Malfoy’s hospital even if he did feel uneasy about blood made anything.


	14. Remus Lupin 2

“You just gave him your blood?” Remus asked incredulously. His pup had just finished telling how he got the long scar on the back of his arm. It was pale and hardly noticeable but to Remus keen nose, it was covered in Vampire drool. 

Potter shrugged, “The recipe called for half a cup of blood, preferably warm. Abraxas had a bag of cold blood but it was going brown. I’m no vampire but it wasn’t fresh blood that’s for certain. I hate making food with substandard ingredients so I gave my arm a little nick-”

“That’s nearly a foot long” Remus pointed out patiently though his frustration at Potter’s clear lack of self preservation was taking a toll.

“The brownies turned out well.”

“Did you try one?”

“A small piece. I threw it back up later that night but Abraxas insisted they were divine.”

“Tell me you aren’t going back there.”

Potter cheeks reddened. Remus had to look away and count to ten. Much as he considered Harry one of his own, the boy was independent. “Harry-”

“James” the boy insisted. 

Remus grinned, “James” he repeated with no small portion of sarcasm “vampires are dangerous.”

Potter looked up from the half folded pile of laundry, shocked and offended. Remus belatedly realised the boy was folding his laundry. He reached out to grab a shirt and at least help. He felt bad that every time Potter came to visit his tiny apartment the boy never stopped cleaning. 

“Lots of people think werewolves are dangerous.” Potter pointed out quietly.

Remus hid his hurt behind the sweater he was folding but Potter still clearly caught it. “And you're not!” Remus put the sweater down and looked over his pup.

The boy was 15 now. He was still thin, but no longer as malnourished as he had once been. He was fit from his work around town. His arms and legs were a toned and well formed as James Potter had been in his days as an auror. He was healthy and smart, out running four vampires proved that. But, he was unmistakably still a boy. 

Remus had seen James, one of his best friends, physically fit, academically brilliant and unmistakably quick, lifeless on a hardwood floor. The memories of rushing into house in Godric’s Hollow and seeing James laying at the base of the floor filled Remus with breath catching grief. 

The werewolf reflexively reach out to Harry, needing to feel his warmth. Potter leant into the half hug and waited for Remus to collect himself. 

“I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that anyone should be afraid of you Remus.” Potter sounded uncertain and anxious. Remus held him a little tighter before letting go. 

“I worry about losing you,”

The boy gave a cocky grin, “I’m here every Saturday and Sunday. You couldn’t lose me if you tired.”

“Yesterday, could I have lost you yesterday?”

Potter looked caught off guard by the question. He didn’t answer but the truth payed out over his face. 

“I lost your father when we were only in our twenties. I know what it means to lose someone too soon. Please, I need you to be careful.”

“I will be Remus. I am, honest. Abraxas is a good guy, he’s way cooler than Draco.”

Remus let out a bark of laughter. “I want to meet him.” 

Reluctantly, Potter agreed. 

Being able to meeting the blood sucker eased Remus’ mind. 

“So what was I like as a baby?” 

Remus grinned. “Your first summer stayed at my cabin out by Moontail Lake. Lily and James stayed in the cabin with you. Peter and Sirius shared a tent and since I snore, I was relegated to a muggle tent Lily brought.”

“Lily had a mild form of dragon pox when you first arrived. Everyone was afraid you would catch it. Dragon pox is nothing to worry about as an adult, but when you are very little or very old it can turn kill you. So Lily was quarantined inside and you slept in the muggle tent with me. Sirius, being the overbearing mutt he is, slept in his dog form curled around you.”

A thought occurred to Remus. He got up from the couch and went over to his bookcase. In his copy of “Harry Snoat, Human heart” he had a few photos. One of them was of Harry sleeping soundly, half tucked under Sirius in his dog form. Both of them were sleeping with their tongues hanging out of the side of their mouth. 

Remus handed over the photos. Harry’s eyes lit up as he gingerly accepted the images.

“What are the other ones?” Potter indicated the small pile of other photos. 

Remus picked up the first one. Harry was standing on the back of a huge stage, gripping the antler to help him balance. Lily, dressed in a beautiful white dress with grass stains on the knees, had one hand supporting Harry and the other tangled in her wild red hair. 

“That’s dad?” Potter asked, pointing to the majestic stage. 

Remus nodded, “James loved going for walks in the woods in his animagus form. The rabbits and the squires didn’t scamper away when a stage passed so he say all the wildlife that lived out there. 

Remus picked up the next photo. Harry was sitting in nothing but a diaper on a little wooden counter. He was elbow deep in a pile of flour. “You really wanted to help Lily make bread,” Remus explained. Lily could be seen as a blurry blue and red figure in the background. Leaning on the counter, was the real James Potter. A large flour smudge covered his left cheek, his right glasses lense and eyebrow. 

“This picture is from the lake.” Harry was laying on his Father’s stomach as the two floated in the crystal clear water. A dark black blur could be seen swimming underneath James. “That’s Sirius,” Remus laughed. “He grabbed you off James and swam off so fast James thought you’d fallen. He screamed so loud, the forest emptied. He nearly drowned Sirius when he realized what happened.”

The next picture was of Sirius sitting on a broom three times too small for him. Harry was bouncing happily on the front of the broom as it flew about a foot off the ground over the carrot patch behind Remus’s cabin. “Mom let me on a training broom? How old was I?” 

Remus pulled up the next picture, Harry couldn’t have been more than 5 months and he was flying solo around Remus, Sirius and James. “Lily wasn’t too happy when she found out Sirius and your dad taught you to fly, but even she admitted you were a natural.” 

“Did they read to me?” Harry could remember listing at the top of the stairs when his Uncle was watching TV and his Aunt was putting Dudley to sleep. Aunt Petunia would read picture books to Dudley until he would fall asleep. Often she read the same book, “Frog and Toad Are Friends”. Harry was pretty sure that if prompted, he could still recited most of the book off by heart. 

Remus gave a goofy grin, “You crawled away any time Lily read to you.”

“Really?”

Remus nodded emphatically, “She would start reading “Silvia Selkie and the Monster Squid” and you would start crawling away. You had no interest in the moving pictures or the stories, you wanted to explore the garden and eat the baby carrots. 

Harry blushed, “I do like carrots.” 

“You eat nearly my entire carrot bed when you started teething.” 

“Sorry” 

“I loved it. James and I joked about it for days. Lily felted embarrassed. She made me a beautiful carrot cake with what few carrots she salvaged.” 

Remus wrapped an arm around Harry, “I should make you a carrot cake for your birthday.”

“I already had my birthday.” Harry paused in thought, “Can you cook?”

Remus shoved him playfully, “Of course I can!” which was a lie. Remus couldn’t cook to save his life but he could commission one of the elderly werewolf ladies from across the hall to bake a cake for him. 

“Tomorrow night, we will celebrate your birthday.”

Harry laughed, but agreed.

Remus resolved to scrap up some of his meager savings to buy Harry a gift too. Perhaps a new snitch. Harry talked about playing street quidditch often enough.


	15. Abraxas Malfoy

Remus and Harry walked shoulder to shoulder down the winding network of back alleys until they arrived at the large ornate front door of Abraxas Malfoy's Alley house. Harry reached up to knock, but the door swung out of his reach. Standing stalk still, smiling pleasantly was Abraces. 

Abraxas was pale like Draco but no as frosty looking as most vampires. His hair was left long sweeping across his back. His pupils were blood red, but not as noticeable behind a pair of gold rimmed glasses. Most particularly, his eyes had a soft, caring look to them.

“James Evans. So good to see you again. Come in, come in. And who is this friend of yours?” The question seemed pointless as the two shared a very familiar glance.

“Hello Abraxas.”

“Hello Remus, how are you today?”

“Fine thank you and yourself”

“Doing well.”

“So you do know each other?” Harry clarified. 

Abraxas nodded, “I first meet Remus when he joined the Order”.

Harry’s mind first went to the order of Merlin, but he hadn’t ever heard of Remus winning an Order of Merlin before. 

Abraxas laughed, “It’s nothing terribly special. Dumbledore and a few of his friends started a group to organize underground relief efforts during the rise of Grindelwald then with the rise of Tom. I lived with one of the founding member. One Phineas Black, after I was turned.” 

“The old head master?” Potter had seen Phineas’ portrait numerous times in Dumbledore's office. The man looked more stern and unyielding than professor Mcgonagall. 

Remus looked intrigued at Abraxas, clearly having recognized the name.

“His second eldest son actually. He was blasted from the family tree for his very public support of muggles so naturally he and Dumbledore got on splendidly. When I was turned, Lucious was only a child and my wife had already passed some years before. I needed to get away for a time.” 

“Dumbledore contacted Phineas and voila I had a place to stay.”

“Enough of all that though, shall we head to the kitchen?” 

Remus intended to leave once he was sure that Abraxas wasn’t up to something, but the charismatic vampire swept him up in his charm and lead him into the kitchen. Remus was a hopeless cook, so he sat at the kitchen table to watch. 

Abraxas showed Harry how to make his own blood pops. This time, Abraxas had fresh blood on hand so Potter didn’t have to cut himself. 

Remus had assumed that Abraxas would be dominate in nature. Lucius had been popular in school and Draco sounded very similar from what Remus had seen in class. 

Abraxas was different though. Abraxas was charming and charismatic, but he wasn’t a leader. He was a natural confidant. Potter told Abraxas about his work in the pub, cleaning various shops around town, and cooking for several community functions.

Abraxas never pushed, but he asked probing questions that got Harry thinking deeper about his experience. Shortly after putting the blood pops into the freezer to cool, Abraxas asked, “how did you come here in the first place?”

Potter didn’t seemed to even think about being guarded. Remus was a bit jealous, Potter always clammed up when he asked. 

Instead, Potter sighed and began explain his Aunt and Uncle, Dudley and their collective hatred of magic. 

“-Until this summer my Uncle and Aunt rarely raised a hand to me, but I guess they did some reading while I was at Hogwarts or maybe they watched a news program or something. All I know is, when I got back to their house I was back under the stairs. I hardly ever ate, the list of chores had me working dusk till dawn and no matter how much I got done, I still got belted at the end of it.”

Remus reflexively reached out to run a hand across Harry’s back. He hadn’t ever thought about it before, but he could feel long groves and hills under the boy’s clothes. Remus pulled the pup into a half hug. 

“It’s fine, honest. I just got tired of it so I ran away. I work far less here, I eat more, and my time is my own.”

“Well I am glad you are a member of Knockturn Alley now. Everyone talks very fondly of you, and everyone at the White Wyvern pub has taken a shining to you.” 

Harry grinned sheepishly. 

Abraxas put the pot of tea on a tray, grabbed some cookies from his cupboard and handed the lot to Remus to carry. From the freezer he grabbed a small tub of ice cream and one of the blood pops. He handed the tub to Harry and stuck the blood pop in his mouth. 

Abraxas lead the trio up a winding ornate staircase pasted the second, third, fourth and fifth floor of the house and up onto the rooftop. It was like walking into a magical jungle.

All around them, they could see the tops of Knockturn Alley buildings peeking up from the low lying cloud of smog that perpetually clouded Knockturn Alley. 

A Murder of beautiful Rainbow coloured crows circled the sky above them before drifting down to the tree tops that grew on Abraxas roof. 

The shouting, cussing, and drunken cursing of Knockturn Alley was trapped below the smog. Up here all they could hear was the fantastical singing of the rainbow crows.

Harry poured everyone a cup of tea and Remus dug into the ice cream tub. He passed it over to his pup after stealing a couple of spoonfuls for himself. 

“So you’re Draco’s Grandfather then?” Harry asked Abraxas.

Abraxas nodded, “Not that Lucious will admit it. My son has done his best to keep my grandson from me. A couple of years ago, he even pronounce me dead to the ministry. Died of Dragon pox. The fact that Vampires cannot contract dragon pox went entirely unnoted.”

Harry nodded sympathetically.

If Remus was to guess, no one in the ministry had ever acknowledged that one of their own was a vampire. Abraxas was, in typical pure blood fashion, quietly swept to the side and out of notice into Knockturn Alley. 

“If you are friends with Dumbledore-”

“Friends is probably a little too generous,”

“Well, if you worked with Dumbledore, how come Draco and his father are so…”

Abraxas laughed. “Different from me? Well that is a grand question and the fact of the manor is I blame Tom entirely. He corrupted my young son and stole him from me. He is an unthankful, inconsiderate git.”

“Tom?”

“Tom Riddle”

Remus stared dumbly at Abraxas. 

“You were friends with Voldemort?” Harry asked in jaw dropping surprise.

“Oh yes, Tom and I were the best of friends. Unfortunately he and I differed in some crucial opinions. We both wanted to overthrow the pureblood regime and increase creature rights, but Tom had no love for Muggles. He wanted them enslaved. After I refused to back him if he didn’t drop Muggle enslavement, he opted to drop creature rights. It was a right mess.” 

Harry and Remus could only stare at Abraxas. They shared an uncomfortable glance. Harry was the one to break the silence, “Voldemort killed countless witches and wizards.”

Abraxas gave Harry a thoughtful look but instead of addressing him, Abraxas turned to Remus. “I want you to estimate how many werewolves will die in ministry custody this year.”

Remus flinched, “well over 50 I would assume.”

“And how will that affect the overall werewolf population of Britain?”

“We will once again be declining sharply.”

“What is the average age of a werewolf?”

Remus thought about the silver hairs on Kolos’ head. Kolos was one of the few werewolves left that was older than Remus. 

“About 40 I would say.” 

“And the average age of a witch or wizard?”

“About 130 and before you ask, not lycanthropy does not affect the lifespan of a witch or wizard. We can’t get medical attention easily at the hospital and those who do, often never return. The longer you live the more likely you are of being accused of a crime by the ministry and nearly all crimes are punishable by death if you are a werewolf.”

Abraxas gave a sharp nodded of approval, “You see James Evans, it is a terrible thing that Tom did to his own people but I am afraid they garner no sympathy from me. For years the ghetto that is Knockturn Alley has been allowed to putrefy and fester while witches and wizards enjoy their comfort in Diagon Alley and beyond. They accept no accountability for the hevic their government plays on Creature lives.”

“I am sorry that he choose such unnecessarily violent gorrila warfair but I blame the ministry for making that the only feasible way to have change.” 

Remus and Harry sat in stunned silence for a good while. What was running through his young pup’s mind, Remus could only guess. Whatever it was, it left a troubled look on his face.


	16. Harry Potter 3

Harry sat with Hedwig resting on his shoulder on the rooftop of Abraxas apartment. In his hands he held the thick parchment from Hogwarts. The usual welcome letter that addressed Harry by name was stuff away in his apartment. He only brought with him his list of supplies which was generic to any Hogwarts student. 

“I still have my plain Pointed Hat from last year,” Potter ticked it off the list, “I should probably get some new robes-”

“I have a closet full of robes downstairs in one of my guest rooms. Let's go through the collections before you buy anything.”

Harry smiled in thanks. Abraxas had insisted in helping Harry fill his supplies list with anything that was lying around the house. Citing the fact that one person does not possibly need five floors worth of junk. 

“I don’t have protective dragon hide gloves anymore. I melted them in a potion the other day.” Harry tried to ignore Abraxas startled laugh. 

“I have a winter coat though, a wand, several cauldrons, all the potion ingredients I could ever dream of, a box full of glass vials, a telescope and a new brase scale set.”

“What of your books?” 

“‘The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5’ by Miranda Goshawk - Jason Samuels a Ravenclaw I play quidditch with gave me his copy for a cutting of a plant I own. I have a copy of ‘Confronting the Faceless and A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration’ by Emeric Switch from a bin of textbooks Marcus Flint gave me the other day in exchange for dinner. Malvin Douglas, a dragonologist sent me a signed copy of ‘Flesh-Eating Trees of the World’ by Carl Vancouver. Apparently Malvin is friends with the author.”

“Do you have a copy of ‘Advanced Potion-Making’ by Libatius Borage?”

Harry nodded, “Megan at the pub got me a copy as a belated birthday present”. 

“That leaves Advanced Rune Translation’ by Calvin Fisgard.” 

“Well, I think I can afford one book.”

“Nonsense, I have at least a couple of copies down in my library. Do you have a rune set of any kind? What style of runes are you studying?”

Harry shrugged, “I haven’t seen the syllabus yet but from what I heard it is just a introductionarry class.”

“You should use Anglo-Saxon runes. I have a whole set I can give you. I also have a small book of spells and enchantments you try.”

Sensing Harry’s curiosity, Abraxas excused himself to go get the books, robes, gloves and rune set for Harry. 

Abraxas found he had three standards robes and two dress robes that would fit Harry, so he grabbed the set. The books he wanted were easy to find as was the rune set. 

Abraxas had to search a bit for the set of dragon hide gloves that he eventually found in storage closet on the third floor. He took the whole collection up to the jungle.

He put the robes and books aside and lay the rune tiles out in front of Harry. From his garden, Abraxas grabbed a spare bit of yew wood and a carving knife he kept stored under a pot of flowers. 

Abraxas drew up a simple pattern and showed Harry how to carve it into the wood. “Remember each symbol needs to be about the same size, the same distance apart, and the same depth carved into the wood. You need consistency. Being farther away, cut deeper into the wood, or larger than any other rune changes the meaning of the whole sequence.”

Harry looked confused but nodded along not wanting to disappoint or frustrate Abraxas.

The vampire paused. “Think about in your writing, if you were to write a sentence and one word was bold or in all capitals, it would change the meaning of the sentence, right?”

Understanding dawned on the lad's face. 

“Now a lot of rune carving is about practice. Don’t get frustrated if the first, second or thirtieth time you try carving a sequence it doesn’t work. In time you will get it.”

Potter tired the simple sequence Abraxas wrote out for him. It was shaky, uneven and not at all uniform, but it did functionally work. The charm was used to float an object or person over a given area. In this case, when Abraxas set one of the Hogwarts textbooks on the wood it floated haphazardly over the runes. 

“This is a good sequence to help practice your carving. I was taught to pour rice on top. It helps to see where the grains are too high or low or if they wobble in place.” 

Potter took the advice to heart and spent the rest of his time with Abraxas practicing carving the sequence on various bits of spare wood.

When their visit was over, Potter went to Potage's Cauldron Shop where he had been commissioned to clean for the afternoon. By the time evening fell, Potter hadn’t slept in nearly 36 hours, his knees and hands were scrubbed raw for his work and his magic was half depleted from all the various pure magic cleansing spells he had cast. 

The owner paid Potter handsomely and even included a full potion’s knife set from a shipment that arrived as Potter was cleaning. 

The knives were expensive looking and of great quality. Potter had no idea why they ended up in Knockturn alley. He assumed they were either made out of an illegal substance or stolen. Later research revealed that the set was from Brazil. The seller bypassed high tariffs on imported good and sold them illegally in Knockturn which was good new for Potter since that meant he could take them to Hogwarts in a few days time. There was nothing illegal about Harry owning the knives, it was simply illegal for the owner of Potage’s Cauldron Shop to sell them. 

After cleaning, Potter headed to the White Wyvern pub for a short, four hour shift covering the busiest time of the day. He busted tables, took orders, helped Megan clean dishes, and jumped on a grill briefly to make Fried Windigo Fingers for a table of 36 Goblins from Gringotts who all ordered the same thing. It meant staying later than he wanted, but Potter was happy to help.

By the time midnight hit, Potter was bone weary. He headed back to his apartment, unlocked the door and began peeling off the sweat plaster cloths. 

“Evening Potter. You weren’t home so I took the liberty of helping myself to left overs. I brought you a stack of parchment, quills and various colours of ink. They’re on the counter.”

Potter was too tired to scream in surprise today, “hey Flint. Thanks for the supplies. Sorry I couldn’t make a proper meal today.” 

Marcus Flint waved off the apology. He was snuggled under a mound of blankets, reading one of Potter’s muggle teen fantasy books and sipping a cup of tea. It was clear he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

When it was rainy, cold, or when Flint wanted a proper night sleep he abandoned the cave under the Tattoo shop where he lived and crashed on Potter’s couch. He generally always brought something useful with him. Last night it had been treats for Hedwig. Potter appreciated not having to shop himself so he let it slide. Flint didn’t actually have a key, but he had been a Knockturn Alley street rat long enough that didn’t matter. 

“You have everything for Hogwarts then?” Flint asked from his bundle of blankets. 

Harry poured himself some tea. It was cold in the apartment today which Harry appreciated. He had stripped down to his boxers and was letting the cool air wash over him before he went to shower. 

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll pack up my trunk tomorrow I guess. Train leaves the day after.”

“How does it feel to be going back?”

“Well, sharing a dorm room will probably feel normal enough,” Harry cracked a smirk at Flint, “but I’m not sure how I’ll adjust to the house elves cooking and cleaning everything.”

“I always felt like a bloody King. Shower everyday, food at every meal, clean clothes every morning. Everyone thought I intentionally failed my last year for Quidditch, but I just wanted to be able to shower after practice.” 

“Well, I am subletting my apartment for the school year so you can’t keep crashing at my place. If you stop acting like a huge dick to werewolves, I’m sure Remus would let you crash with him.” 

Flint sneered. Flint’s hatred of werewolves was legendary and not about to fade anytime soon despite Harry’s best efforts. 

“Well what are you going to do then?”

“Believe it or not Potter-”

“Evans”

“Whatever. Believe it or not Evans I survived just fine for years before you came along. I’ll figure it out, always have.” 

Harry hummed uncommitted agreement but let the topic drop. 

Fint had turned back to his book so Potter went to shower. He washed himself lithologically and crawled into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	17. Harry Potter 3

Abraxas Malfoy stood dutifully at the entrance of the White Wyvern. Already he had to sent two of his coven members away from the goodbye party that was put on to celebrate all those lucky enough to attend school.

There were students from Beauxbatons, Ouagadou, Aurora Borealis, Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Koldovstoretz, and Ilvermorny. Many, like Evans, were instrumental members of the community.

There were also a couple of professors from Mahoutokoro in Japan who had spent the summer doing research on European house elves. Their research was done for now, so they would be heading back to their respective communities on Aladdin's red eye carpet to Japan.

“Are you packed and ready?” Abraxas asked Evans when the lad showed up at the door. 

“Yes. Marcus helped me write my renter’s agreement. Malvin, the dragonologist from Canada, is subletting my place for the school year. He’s got a research contract with the Department of Mystery. We actually just signed the paperwork.” 

Marcus Flint was the one who drew up the contract. He cited various housing codes and Knockturn Alley regulations that Harry had never even heard of. “This is why you only ever see Slytherins in Business.” He had told Evans. “How could you not know the tenant regulations for your own neighbour Potter?” 

Marcus had cussed him up and down for not knowing the laws. He showed up to Evans’ the next night for a final dinner with seven huge books on local laws. Harry knew how much effort it likely took to get ahold of the books so he politely accepted them. Evans fully intended to regift them to Hermione come Christmas. 

In the end, it meant a professional sounding subletting agreement was present to Melvin who skim read it and signed on the bottom.

“Where will you be staying tonight then, if Malvin is in your apartment?” 

Potter grinned, “I’m crashing at Remus’ apartment for tonight. The train to Hogwarts leaves tomorrow at 11.”

“Try not to stay up too late then.” Abraxas cast a disdainful glance at six Ilvermorny students who were plastered out of their minds. They were bubbling gibberish and changing the colour of the table between giggles. It was currently orange with neon pink polka dots. 

“I thought you were bring salad”. Harry turned to see Remus standing in front of Abraxas with a wolfish grin on his face. 

“I did. It’s carrot salad with a beautiful creamy, cheese dressing.” Remus eyes glinted with myrth. Abraxas looked unimpressed as he took the carrot cake with cream cheese icing from the werewolf and went to add it to the huge banquet table of food. 

Remus spotted Harry standing at his elbow, “Gotta make sure you eat your daily ration of veggies.” 

Harry let Remus drape an arm around him and lead him to a back table were several other Farkas Pack members were sitting. There were five school aged children at the table, but only two of them were actually accepted into a school.

“What school do you attend?” Potter asked. He didn’t recognise the heavy parka like cloaks. 

“Aurora Borealis Academy of Magic” The older of the two werewolves answered. “It’s in Yukon, Canada up past Old Crow-”

“What she mean,” her brother in cut in, “Is that it is in the middle of nowhere.” 

“You go to Hogwarts right?” the girl werewolf asked. “You're Evans right? Everyone says you make the food on Saturday and Sunday.” 

Potter nodded to both questions. 

“My name is Taelor and this is Maxwell. We are part of the Farkas pack” The older werewolf motioned to the twins sitting beside her, “These two are Lisa and Liam Farkas. They aren’t old enough to attend school yet.”

Liam growled at Taelor, “I would be old enough if we went to Hogwarts. I just turned 11. But stupid Aurora Borealis doesn’t start ‘till we’re 14.”

“Why is that?” Evans asked.

“My name is Rose Stillwater” the remaining werewolf cut in. Her hair was cut short in an abstract artisty form.

“Yeah, yeah. This is Rose. She is the only purebred werewolf. The rest of us were turned when we were tiny little things.” Maxwell said dismissively. 

Potter got the impression there was a long standing tension between pureblood and turned werewolves. He took a second look at Rose Stillwater and noticed that her teeth were sharpened to a point and her movements were more guarded and erratic than the Farkas pack members. It was like looking at a wolf among huskies. They were all a bit wild but she seemed to be flirting with farel. 

“Anyways, lots of people die at Aurora Borealis during their studies so they upped the entrance age to try and cut down on the deaths.” Maxwell explained. 

Potter blinked back his shock, “Sorry, did I hear you right? They die? Like in the middle of DADA?”

Taelor winced, “We started with a cohort of 60. This is our 3rd year and we are already down to 48.” 

Potter tried to imagine loosing ⅙ people in his grade. That would mean one person from every house for Hogwarts. What if he lost Ron? Or Hermione ? It was hard enough last year watching Cedric Diggory die. To watch that over and over again.

“You’ve seen someone die, haven’t you?” Rose Stillwater asked. Her eyes narrowed and her noses flared out. She leaned in over the table and nearly upset Evans mug of butterbeer. He snatched it up from the table and held it up against his chest protectively. 

Taelor Farkas looked up in surprise. “Have you?”

“Yes.” Evans swallowed the guilt that crept up his throat, “have you?”

Taelor shrugged unrepentantly, “Sure. Hell, I’ve killed people before.”

Maxwell barked in laughter, “Yes you did! I still can’t believe you just cut Alexa’s throat in the middle of potions class. Merlin's testis, Professor Rekin was mad.”

“You just- In the middle of class- why?!”

Taelor waved off Evans’ surprise, “life is just a little bit more rough and tumble up in the middle of nowhere.” 

Evans had a hard time imagining a time or place where he would be ok with killing someone in cold blood like Taelor had done but he tried to keep his judgement off his face. 

He stayed at the Farkas table for an hour or so before Jason Samuels, a Ravenclaw street rat Potter played quidditch with, came over to pull Harry over to the Hogwarts table. There were only the two current students but Oliver Wood, Charlie Weasley, and Marcus Flint were all at the table. 

“Pot-” Marcus reached out and slapped Charlie upside the head so hard that Charlie’s forehead went crashing into the table. 

“James Evans.” Jason Samuels said pointedly, this is Oliver Wood and Charlie Weasley. Both of them are former Gryphons. 

Oliver and Charlie were well tangled into one another. Both were already half cut and slurring their words. 

“Well Evans,” Charlie rubbed his head, “ ‘s good to see ya ‘again. Mom’s been worried sick all summer. You should’a written. Merlin’s left butt cheek, Evans, even Ronniekins was getting worried.” 

Harry took a seat at the end of the table beside Marcus Flint and across from Charlie. Charlie reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand in a grip tight enough to break bones, “Evans I was worried. I nearly brought the whole bloody reserve to come find ya!”

“Shit, Charlie, could you imagine? Ruby just flying around London looking for Evans?” Oliver asked. 

Charlie collapsed into giggles, “No! No, Ruby would just start grabbing random cattle and snacking on them in the streets.”

“She she would. Fucking Ruby.” Oliver laughed into Charlie's shoulder. He slowly stopped laughing but stayed curled with his face pressed into the crook of Charlie’s neck. 

It occurred to Evans that both Oliver and Charlie were affectionate drunks. 

Charlie kept a firm grasp on Potter’s hand for a good twenty minutes. The table talked about favourite professors and times they cheated on homework. Potter stayed willing trapped until Charlie let go of his hand while telling a story about getting caught in a lie by Professor Sproat. The tale needed a lot of two handed expression apparently. 

Potter took the chance to excuse himself from the table.

He was planning on leaving, but he got waved over to the Goblin table. Ragnok and his cousin Professor Flitwick were sitting having a beer with several other goblins. Two of which looked to be able school age. 

“Hello Professor.” Evans wasn’t sure how drunk he appeared but he tried to hide it as best he could. He took extra care to move with steady motions and keep his gaze as focused as much as possible. 

If Flitwick noticed his inebriation, he made no mention of it. 

“You go to the same school Filius works at right?” one of the younger goblins asked. 

Evans nodded. 

“We go to Durmstrang in Norway. So do those four,” the Goblin waved over to a vaguely familiar group of Selkie sitting at the bar chatting up the waitress with sashaying hips. “If you ever feel like switching schools, we’d love to have you. I heard all about how you outran those vampires. You’d be brilliant in the dueling tournament!”

Evans ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I just wanted to wish ya the best and all that” Ragnok cut in. “Don’t forget to write.”

“I will, I promise.”

Evans didn’t both trying to hide how happy it made him to have Ragnok welcome him into his life. In many ways, Ragnok was the key to Evans acceptance into the Alley community. “Thank you, again, for everything.” 

“You’re a good lad James Evans. The whole pub’ll miss ya”

“Damn straight!” someone yelled from across the room. Evans thought it might have been Megan’s voice. 

After that, it took another hour of saying goodbyes to various regulars before Evans got out the door. Everyone seemed to want to buy him a drink, give him advice, or convince him to switch to their school. Evans love it. It was nice to be missed. It meant he had belonged in the first place.


	18. Malvin Douglas 2

Malvin Douglas, Canadian Dragonologist, settled himself down onto the frankly hideous couch of the apartment he had rented from his young friend. James Evans was clean, organized, thoughtful, and very well prepared. 

The apartment was utterly spotless. The lad had done small renovations by fixing the drywalling, new pressboard flooring, and changing out the old cupboards in the kitchen. Despite being in a seedy looking building, Evans apartment was very put together. 

What's more, Evans had stocked the cupboards with various popular Elvish snacks. He’d even left a few homemade frozen meals with a note of welcome. On the counter was a detailed map of Knockturn Alley and the many spiderweb alleys. Little notes were scribed on the map which detailed if and when it was safe to go into various shops and back alleys. 

There was even a contact list above the foo with names of people he could contact in an emergency as Aurors were ‘largely absent’ in Knockturn Alley. 

Never before had Douglas had such thoughtfulness given to him by a wizard. Douglas resolved to do something for his friend in return.   
…

Harry James Potter woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. He looked up bleary eyed from his place on Remus’ couch. A buffet of food was sitting in takeaway containers on the counter. Remus was leaning against the oven, reading the Daily Prophet and drink and mug of coffee. 

The paper flopped in half, Remus smiled at Harry. “It seems the cooks heard you were staying with me. They sent enough to feed an army. Eat what you can, the rest you can take on the train for lunch.” 

Harry got up, showered and made himself comfortable on a barstool in front of the food. He didn’t bother with trying to find a plate. Remus didn’t actually own any. He grabbed a watermarked fork and began eating eggs out of the container. Remus was eating the beacon. Occasionally they switched. 

A little after 10, Harry cleaned up the kitchen and the couch while Remus packed him some of the leftovers from breakfast. 

The two made their way to the bottom of the apartment building. As usual, Kolos Farkas was in the front entrance. However, his favoured leather seat was gone and an old sheet was spread over the tiled floor. Kolos was measuring and cutting various pieces of wood with a hand saw. 

Harry looked around the room. It looked surprisingly like a muggle renovation with various measuring taps, saws, hammers, and screwdrivers placed haphazardly around the room. 

“Oh Hello Remus, Evans. Sorry for the mess, we’ve had a bit of a leak in the pipes. It’s all fixed up but it means redoing the ceilings in most of the lower floor.”

“I have to drop Evans off, but I can help after.”

“If you don’t mind Remus, that’d be great” Kolos grinned and his shoulders relaxed. 

To Harry’s great surprise, Remus seemed entirely comfortable with the prospect of helping. If it were Harry, he’d be well over his head. 

When the two had gotten through the floo and were settled on Platform 9 ¾, Harry turned to Remus. “Have you done construction before?”

Remus nodded, “I built the tiny cabin I own. In fact, After James and Lily took you to live in Godric Hallows, Sirius and I bought a piece of land a few lakes over. We build a dozen or so vacation cabins. Dumbledore and a couple of goblins from Gringotts set down some impressive wards. The Order uses them for people who needed to disappear. James wanted to move into them, but Godric Hallow was better protected.”

Potter thought that the protections Godric Hollow had didn’t seem to make much difference but he thought better of saying so. It was impressive to have built several home by hand. Harry let his awe overshadow the bitter feeling of being stranded at the mercy of the Dursleys. 

“Well, I suppose you ought to get on. Write often,” Remus ran a gentle hand over Hedwig's feather. The owl preened at the attention from her perch on Harry’s shoulders. “Try and stay out of trouble too. If you need anything, contact anyone from Knockturn. You know Abraxas, Ragnok, and I are happy to do what we can to help.”

“Boss said the same thing,” 

“He’s a great giant.” Remus affirmed. It warmed his heart to see so many people in Knockturn taking a liking to his pup. He hoped it would be enough to get the lad through one year of uninterrupted, uneventful studies. 

Harry gave Remus a hug before pulling his trunk aboard the train.

…

“It’s September 2nd” Abraxas pointed out for the benefit of the lad. He had begun to think of Evans as part of the coven. His well being and growth seemed to be Abraxas responsibility. The vampire thought the boy was responsible and on the road to success, but it was only, “day one and you have detention for the week?”

Potter scowled, “She’s a toad!” 

“Weeks of harassment at the hands of some of my less mature children and yet two hours with this ‘toad’ and you reacted poorly enough to get a week's detention?”

“That’s not fair” Harry seemed to be struggling with himself not to yell. 

The boy was sitting in front of his common room fire in the dead of night. He had apparently had a hard time falling asleep so he fire-called Abraxas knowing the vampire would be up at night. 

“Try meditating to help clear your mind. I taught you how to do this, yes?”

Harry nodded. 

“It will help you keep your temper about you, help restore and calm your magic, and you will find it easier to sleep. As well, hopefully it will help you resolve tense situations without getting into more trouble.”

“Cross your legs. Back straight so you can breath better. Take your left hand, your right hand and make a cup in your lap. Close your eyes so you can hear better. Focus on the sound of the fire.”

Abraxas watched through the crackling of the fire as the boy complied. The anxiety still made him restless but in time his body began to still. 

“Good, good. Now focus on your breathing. Breath in deeply, hold it for 1...2...3….4, breath out. Slowly, for as long as you can. Hold it for 1...2...3..-” The boy lost himself in listening to his body. 

“Now enter your mind. Let yourself fade into your mindscape. What do you see? What do you smell? What thoughts make your mind untidy? Deal with each though separately.

Abraxas waited for well over an hour but the boy had sunk into a deep meditative state so he left the lad to concentrate. He ended the fire call and went to deal with the overflowing desk of paperwork that he had let accumulate.

…

Ragnok laughed at the letter James Evans had sent. At Hogwarts the House Elves did all of the cooking. The funny little creatures were incredibly protective of their kitchen. Evans wrote about his ongoing attempts to get permission to cook meals for himself. 

So far the house elves had refused but they did make him Stone bread, Devil’s Snare salad, and BBQ’d Dropbear steak for dinner the other night. The lad’s meal attracted a fair few stares from the rest of the hall, but the boy thought it was hilarious. Apparently Dropbear had become a new favorite at the Gryffindor table. 

Ragnok set the letter to the side of the counter and pulled from his lower cupboards a mixing bowl. He pulled out various flours and spices from his cupboards. Ragnok wrote out a recipe for spicy Goblin chips on a small square of parchment. He rolled it up and put it in the box he intended to send to the lad. 

Ragnok had long since memorized this particular family recipe. He set about mixing forming dozens of chips. He baked and seasoned the batch before packaging them up and sending them off with the Snowy owl. 

Ragnok refolded the letter and added it to the box of special things that sat under his bed. It seemed too late to head down to the pub, plus it almost didn’t seem worth it if the lad wasn’t there. These days, teasing the lad was half the fun in going. Ragnok grabbed a bottle of Elven wine from his cupboards and settled himself down in his living room to read the newspaper and get sloshed. 

...

“Look Boss, look what Evans sent!’ Megan pulled from the large box a piece of driftwood, a bottle of sparking blue water, a vial of sand, and a couple of hand carved figurines.

Megan read through the instructions as her boss set the bit of driftwood on a special places on the shelves behind the bar. Megan firsted poured the sand over the drift wood. The whole lot floated a half a foot over the wood. She dug a little whole in the middle of the sand and poured in the water to make a lake. Boss grabbed the little figurines gently between his massive fingers and set them in the sand. The figures were made in the likeness of all of the employees and a couple of the regulars. 

Boss placed his own figurine half buried in sand and put Evans on one side and Megan on the other. Megan laughed. “This is so wonderful. I’ll have to painted a picture, spell it and send it back to him. I do wonder how much homework he’s actually doing if he managed to get all this done in the two weeks he’s been in Hogwarts.” 

Boss wasn’t to concerned, “The boy can always come back here if he needs. He’s smart and hard working. He can study in the back and take his OWLS and NEWTs at the ministry.” 

“No one ever gets good grades that way.” Megan scoft. “I’ll send him a note back saying you’ll make him scrub the bathrooms with a toothbrush if he doesn’t pass his classes.”

“He’d scrub those floors with a smile on his face” The giant laughed merrily and walked away, his heavy steps rocking the floor. 

Megan shrugged. Her boss was probably right. The boy would do just about anything if you asked him nicely. She did worry some days what mischief the boy would eventually get himself in if he didn’t learn to set firm boundaries. She resolved to add a paragraph or two telling the boy as much. 

After working together nightly for a little over a month, Megan had gotten fairly attached to the hardworking lad. He was the youngest brother in the White Wyvern pub family.


	19. Sirius Black

He didn’t need to touch the rug to know it’s tecture. Even covered in layers of dust, the rug in the lower sitting room would feel like horsehair on his skin. Despite having not touched the damnable thing for a decade and a half, it’s feel was burned into his mind. 

How many days in Azkaban had been dedicated to the horrors of that rug?

He was nine and had just admitted that he thought Frank Longbottom was “really cool”. That was it. That was all it took though. Walburga Black, lost her mind in a rage and cast Collide over and over again. It was like being flogged with a led pipe. 

Sirius Orion Black had clutched to the long hairs of the rug and begged for mercy. When the abuse finally ended, his mother had ordered him out of the sitting room because his “incessant whinging and whining” was disturbing her tea. Sirius had re-lived that memory more times than he cared to keep track of when he was locked in prison. 

Now he was out. He was ‘home’ and the bloody mind healers kept telling him he had to move on. He needed to get over what happened in his childhood. They assured him that his memories, as tragic as they were, were made so much worse by the dementors. As if, being flogged by one's mother wasn’t really all that tragic. Fuck them. 

They were right about one thing though, Sirius was unstable. Some days were worse than others. Some days the memories didn’t haunt him. He felt practically normal those days. He’d eat breakfast in bed and spend the afternoon in the attic chasing pixies and practicing his hand stands. 

Other days were not so good. Some days were numb. The healers called it depression. Sirius thought he was just being lazy but it was so hard to care. He’d wake up and think about doing something productive but then he just couldn’t find a reason to. Nothing mattered. Nothing seemed to make him feel. He spent days in a numb, washed out haze. 

Other days were enraging. Sirius knew he was being unreasonable but that didn’t make him any more calm. He just hated everything, everyone. Literally thousands of people knew he was imprisoned without a trail. THOUSANDS! How did no one, NO ONE! think to ask a couple questions. Just double check some facts? He could have raised his godson. He could have made life so much easier for Remus, could have helped his cousin Nymphadora Tonk, given her some money to ease her way. But no, he was stuck in PRISON while the world just carried on. No one stopped to check on him, no one visited. On days like these, Sirius stalked around the house, bombarding random furniture and setting fire to whatever he pleased. Kreature was forced to go after him and clean everything up. 

There was a cycle, more or less. Sirius would be fine, then something would trigger him and he’d be pissed. The anger would dissipate into depression. In time, the depression would fade and Sirius could crawl back into a normal state only to have the whole cycle start again.   
It was tiring. Sirius just wanted to be normal. Normal enough to get custody of his Godson. Normal enough for his bed friend to come home. 

He just had no idea how to get better. 

It was half way into September when one of the medi-witches made an offhanded comment about the house needing to be renovated. “I can’t imagine how you’ve made any progress at all in his dreary home. Merlin, you must be strong to be getting better despite all this.”

Sirius had been in one of his good days, so he had laughed off the advice and quickly switched to flirting shamelessly with the witch. The idea had stuck though. The next time the damn rug set Sirius off into a fit of rage, he stopped himself from setting it on fire. First he ordered Kreature out of the house so the meddling house elf couldn’t undo his work.

Then, he stripping the entire room right down to the supports. Anything worth selling, he put to the side. The rest, he hauled out back and set it all ablaze. This time, the depression didn’t come. Anger slowly gave way to a singular focus on renovating. 

“Now this does bring back memories,” a familiar voice echoed through the house. Albus Dumbledore stepped into sitting room where Sirius was sitting in the middle of the floor with various plans draw around him and a quill bouncing on his lips. 

Sirius looked up, “Yeah, How many homes did Remus and I end up building? This feels good. I feel good when I’m building.”

“It’s wonderful you are changing things up.” 

Sirius didn’t have to look up to know Dumbledore was wary of the change. The room looked like another destruction zone, but there was actually a plan this time. Sirius didn’t have the patiences to try and justify himself to the headmaster.

Dumbledore peered over the plans Sirius had drawn up. “I like this one. You’re a wonderful artist and a studio would be much more useful than another sitting room.” 

Sirius ran a hand through his unwashed hair, “Sure, yeah, but what about knocking out the south wall and expanding the kitchen?” 

“You think there isn’t enough room for Kreature to cook?” 

Sirius pulled out the plans for an expanded kitchen and rolled them out prominently overtop the other plans. The new kitchen would be designed for witches and wizards, not house elves. Everything was bigger and more spread apart. 

“I know Harry likes to cook. In the letters he sends, he talks about the recipes he’s been trying. When he moves in-” Sirius could practically feel Dumbledore's silent pity. The old fool didn’t think Sirius would ever be well enough to take custody, but Sirius knew better. “Potter will want space to try new recipes.” 

The headmaster hummed uncommitting. 

“I even drew up plans for a blood letting station. Potter’s showed an interest in cooking for creatures. He mentioned a couple of vampire recipes. I thought he might want to collect and cook with various blood types.” 

This time Sirius looked up so he could enjoy the look of shock and discomfort that fluttered over the headmaster’s face before he could school his features again. 

“You knew where he was this summer then?” 

“No, he never told me. I knew he made friends with a goblin, a giant, and a vampire though. Plus he was working for a werewolf pack.”

“You never mentioned any of this.” The headmasters frustration bleed into tone.

Sirius knew he must be tried. Normally Albus tried so hard to never let his emotions show. It had been a bit unfair of Remus and Sirius to keep their godson hidden for half the summer, but the boy seemed to be doing so much better in Knockturn Alley. 

“Sirius-” The headmaster cut himself off. His posture relaxed, “I’m glad you are doing well. If you needed anything, I am a fire call away.”

“Thanks Albus.” 

“Good day then.”

“Good day”. 

In the end, Sirius opted to turn the attic into an art loft and us the sitting room to expand the kitchen for Harry. Sirius stripped every room in the house except for his bedroom and bathroom. He burned all of the furniture and took everything worth selling to Borgin and Burkes. 

He captured the pixies in the attic and took them to a apothecary to be turned into potion ingredients. When it was sunny out, and Sirius felt like getting some fresh air, he cleared he globes from the garden and worked on a small, single room cabin in the back of the property for Remus. 

The renovations would take months, but it was something to keep Sirius busy. The depression and anger still came, but they didn’t stay as long now. 

In October, Remus finally visited. 

“Hey,” was all the werewolf said when he walked into the chaos of the main sitting room. 

Remus had put on weight again, his arms were well toned again and he looked less like a vampiric scarecrow and more like a proper werewolf. He was dressed in an unbuttoned plaid shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and heavy denim jeans with various colours of paint splattered hither and thither. He had a tool kit in one hand and a bagged lunch in the other. 

He handed off the lunches and grabbed the room plans for Sirius. “I’ll work on building the bookcase.” he declared as if they had never had an epic row that ended with him leaving for several months. 

“K, I’m just finishing up with the brickwork around the fireplace. I’ll work on the baseboards next then.” 

Sirius took a bit of his sandwich and stared at Remus unabashingly. “You look better.”

“So do you.”

“Damn near the sexiest thing alive, Remus.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows.

Remus grinned, “Shut up Padfoot. Go finish your work.”

“Yes dear, of course dear.” Sirius finished his sandwich and took his beer over to the stone work. “Moony, How ‘s the Farkas pack doing?”

Remus waved his wand and the hammer and nails jumped to life. “Same, old same old. I suppose. Thanks for sending those books over. Rose Stillwater’s read everything in the building now, I think.”

“She couldn’t even read before, right?” 

Remus nodded. How Sirius knew that was beyond the werewolf. Gossip was a commodity in Knockturn Alley. If Sirius had really wanted to keep tabs on Remus and Harry, he could have paid for it. 

“She’d caught on really fast though. She’s already reading the Muggle Magic series that you sent. She loves Nikola Tesla’s New York Earthquake the most.” 

“You love teaching?” 

“Yeah,” Remus set a saw to work on a slab of solid oak, “I love teaching. I like building too, but I think I love teaching the best.”

“Why not open a school?”

Remus snorted. 

“I’m serious Moony-”

“I know you are.”

“Only I get to make serious jokes-”

“Ok dear”

“You should open a school. I have a couple of unused properties in Knockturn Alley. You could open a school in the Alley.”

“Sirius no one can afford tuition.”

“I can help.”

“Where will that get us though? You can’t pay for the school forever and there isn’t enough money in the Alley to pay for some substandard school for creatures.” 

“When’d you get cynical, Moony?”

“Years ago, Padfoot.”

Sirius deflated a bit. He could feel the edge of depression setting in but he pushed it back. This was about Remus, not him. “What do you want to do with your life?”

“Teach and write textbooks” Remus answered right away. “What about you?”

“I want to go back to being an Auror. I loved being an Auror. If you want to teach, why not open a school?”

“The bureaucracy. What I’d like would be to expand Hogwarts enrollment and cover all tuition through the Ministry. Then I could teach vampires, werewolfs, selkie and wizards.”

“So you want to redesign Hogwarts?”

“No I want Dumbledore to do it and then give me a job.” 

Sirius grinned ear to ear. “I’ll let him know you said that next time he comes to check up on me.”


	20. White Wyvern

“That’s a fine looking shrub ya got there, miss” Ragnok motioned to the huge Christmas tree Megan was decorating. It took up three tables worth of space in the White Wyvern. 

Boss had brought it back from the Northern Mountains after a family visit. Megan had offered to decorate it. She had already hand sewn stockings for all the staff and regulars which now huge from zig zagged lines on the fireplace.

“Feel free to put a couple decorations up.” She motioned to the huge wooden crate of decorations. 

Ragnok peered into the box. With a wave of his hand, he sent a huge string of tinsel snaking around the tree. 

“Yar doing Christmas here then?” 

“Yes, sir. The whole family will be here.”

“Even the lad?”

Megan smiled sadly, “He wanted to be here for the whole break, but his godfather ended up asking him to come for the holidays. They seem to get on really well, Evans talks very fondly of him. Anyways, his godfather and Remus are old friends so Remus and Malvin are going to go pick up the lad”

“They’ll be safe getting here? Things have been tough lately.”

“Remus the werewolf and Malvin the forest elf? Yes, they can manage just fine. Plus Malvin is taking a dragon with him.” 

“A drag-” Ragnok mouth fell open, “oh… ok, well I’m sure they’ll be fine then.”

“Yes, I should think so. Anyways, if you want a whiskey, you’ll have to head up to the bar. If you want to decorate, I’d be happy to have the company.”

Ragnok nodded slowly, “Let me get ya a Seaweed Blast then.”

Rangok hobbled over to the bar. The waitress with the sashaying hips already had a Northern Whisky and a Seaweed Blast waiting on the bar. “Hey there hun, haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Yeah, Yeah. I’ve been busy.”

“S’not the same without our little boy, is it?”  
“No, girly, it ain't.” Ragnok took the drink and headed back over to the Christmas tree to help decorate. Christmas wasn’t a Goblin tradition, but Flitwick insisted on celebrating it every year. Ragnok felt horrible always getting a gift and never sending one in return, so he had gotten in the habit of sending out a few gifts each year. Generally just the staff of the White Wyvern and those in the Flitwick family. 

This year technically only meant getting one more gift, but Ragnok had felt compelled to get his favourite wizard something special this year. 

“We’re trading gifts here at Midnight on Christmas. You’re coming right?”

“Of course. I imagine the whole of the Farkas pack will be here?” 

“Oh yes, plus Abraxas and a good chunk of his coven. Every Quidditch street rat in the Alley, and most shop owners.”

“It’ll be a right party having that many people in this place.”

…

“You alright there Harry?” Remus asked. The boy was back to being quiet and withdrawn. He wasn’t as thin as he had been in August when he first escaped to the Alley, but he had hardly smiled or laughed during the week and a half he’d been in the newly renovated Order headquarters. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just school, exams, papers. Regular stress stuff.” The lie was so blatant, Harry might as well have said his fourth arm was giving him pains. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“My DADA paper?”

“Sure, if that’s what’s bothering you. You might not know this, but I happen to be fairly good at DADA.” Remus grinned. 

Begrudgingly Harry returned the smile. Remus wrapped an arm around his pup and pulled him into a one armed hug, “Some even say could teach, I’m so good.”

“You were by far our best DADA teacher, Remus. Everyone says so. Malfoy even said so the other day.” 

“Abraxas?”

“Draco?”

Remus’s eyebrows shot straight up and almost right off his face. To think the pureblood horror actually defended Remus was world changing. 

“Mind, I think he meant that as more a reflection on the toad we have at the moment.”

Remus grinned, “yes, that is a lot more likely. If you need me pup…”

“I know Remus, I’m just- It’s just school. I’ll be fine once this year’s done.” 

Remus gave Harry one last squeeze before letting go. He would ask Abraxas to follow up with Harry. As much as Remus tried, he wasn’t a natural confidant like Abraxas was. Remus knew something was wrong with the lad but he didn’t know how to get Harry to open up about it. Abraxas would know how to. Abraxas could probably get Marcus Flint to spill his heart.”

“Are we ready then?” Malvin poked his head into the newly expanded kitchen where Harry and Remus were standing by the freshly washed dishes. 

Potter had just finished making Blood Brownies, Deep Fried Wendigo Fingers, and a Carrot Cake for the Christmas party.

Harry nodded. He put the food into a shrinking sack and followed Malvin out the door. 

Remus followed behind. He locked the door with a flick of his wand on the way out.

“Is he your familiar?” Malvin asked Remus, motioning to the large black dog perched on the dragon's wing. Sirius was licking the inside of the great beast ear like they were pack mates. 

“No.”

“He’s mine” Harry piped up from behind. 

Malvin ran a hand through his midnight blue hair and cast an apprehensive glance at the lumbering mutt. “Is he coming with us?’

“Yes!”

“No.”

The dog turned its head to look at the trio. He gave a happy yip and started whole body wiggling in excitement. 

“No padfoot,” Remus growled. “This is not a good idea.”

“I think he should come. Boss would love him,” Harry grinned. 

“Proglet-” Remus let out a long suffering sigh but relented. There was no stopping a Potter and Black idea. If Remus had learned nothing in his short existence it was that any Potter-Black pair ups were unstoppable. The thought that maybe Remus wasn’t really the head of the pack niggled at the back of Remus’ mind. 

Remus begrudgingly let Malvin snuggle Padfoot in his lap for the duration of the flight back to Knockturn Alley. Malvin sat at the front, with Harry in the middle and Padfoot and Moony taking up the rear. Malvin shielded the group from sight. Remus and the Dragon stayed on Guard to block or attack if needed. 

Due to sheer dumb luck, they managed to make it to the WHite Wyvern unaccosted. The dragon landed on the roof. Boss was waiting for them in his usual casual pub attire. On his head, though was a massive knitted red and green toque. He waved to Remus and Mavlin. Harry he swept up in a bone crushing hug, “s’good ta see ya again lad.” was all the giant said before ushering them all down to the party. 

“Yar Dragon, he’ll be alright up there?” Boss asked Mavlin.

“Norbert? Oh, yes. Norbert’ll be just fine up there. He’s got a real soft spot for giants actually. If you wanted to give him a ride, I’m sure he’d take you.” 

Boss seemed genuinely interested. The two waved goodbye to Remus, Harry and Padfoot and headed back to the roof with a promise to be back in time for presents at midnight. 

The remaining trio had just made it into the kitchen when the cook and Megan both flung themselves at Harry. 

“Evans!” they both screamed into his ear. Harry flinched a bit at the volume but he let them squeeze him and ruffle his hair good naturedly. Slowly the tension that kept Harry strung like a bow for the past week and a half started to fade. By the time Harry’s food had been taken to the banquet table and the group had made their way to the main room, Harry looked perfectly at ease. 

“Evans,” A gruff voice called out. Harry lit up when he caught sight of Ragnok. He wandered off to say great the goblin and trade news. Padfoot looked up at Remus. 

“He really fits in here, Padfoot.”

Padfoots tail sagged between his back legs and his ears dropped. 

“He loves you Padfoot and nothing is going to change that. It’s just that he seems to have found a home here.”

The two watched as a group of young street rats meandered over to Harry and Ragnok. They politely greeted the Goblin before proceeding to give Harry a hard time for missing so many quidditch games. One of the younger ones pulled a slightly beaten up snitch from his pocket. He showed it to Harry like it was his most prized possession. It was probably a new Christmas gift from someone in the Alley. 

Padfoot sat and leaned into Remus. He headbutted Remus hand. Absently, Remus scratched behind Padfoots ears. 

“He loves the kitchen you made for him, Padfoot. I’ve never seen him happier. A custom designing a kitchen in his godfather’s home with his own bedroom and ensuite. Plus the fact that you designed the kitchen with his love of Creature Cuisine in mind was the greatest gift you could have give him. It shows your support and acceptance. That was no small gift. Pup just needs- I don’t know, a community I guess.” 

“Remus, Black so good to see you again” A silky voice caught their attention before the lengthy aristocratic stepped into view. As always Abraxas was dressed to the nines. He smiled openly at the two, his eyes carried the same caring, empathetic gaze Remus had come to know and appreciate. Now, though, lines of worry etched around them. 

Padfoot half hid behind Remus, his fur stood on end and a silent growl vibrated his whole body. 

Remus put a soothing hand on his friends head, “Abraxas, it’s good to see you again my friend. He is Padfoot here, by the way.” Remus motioned to the dog still vibrating at his side.

“Of course, I understand.” Remus got the impression that Abraxas understood perfectly what is was to be hunted in these times. 

“If I can help, I am happy to. As is the Farkas pack. Our Alliance still stands.” Remus reminded the vampire. 

Abraxas shock his head, “It’s all fine for now. Nothing me and mine can’t handle. But enough of that, it’s nearly midnight. Let's head over to the tree.”

The tree that Boss had brought back from the mountains and Ragnok and Megan had decorated sat predominantly in the most visible corner of the pub. It was timing with decorations, lights and twinkling silver. Underneath was a mountain of presents from and for the staff and regulars of the White Wyvern pub. 

The presents had been delivered slowly over the month. Each was charmed so only the receiver could pick them up to avoid theft. It had been a bit of a game to convince drunk outsiders to try and nick a present just to watch them get through on their asses when they tried.

“Alright, youngsters first. Megan, Evans that includes you.” Boss’s voice boomed over the noise of the crowed. 

Slowly everyone made their way to the tree to collect their presents. Some collected them all at once, others grabbed one present at a time. 

Evans sat with Remus and Padfoot to open his presents. He got a recipe book from Ragnok, a set of Dragon hide gloves for potion making and another set for dueling, a book on Inca Runes from Marcus Flint. Abraxas got him a full dueling uniform. Various store owners sent trinkets, and the entire staff of the White Wyvern got together to buy Harry a folding potions chest designed like a chinese medicine cabinet. Mr. Mulpepper, from the local apothecary had even filled it. 

‘So was it a pretty good Christmas pup?” Remus asked. 

Potter didn’t answer with words. He ran his hands through Padfoots fur, leaned into Remus’ one arm hug and smiled so wide rays of happiness seemed to spill out of him.


	21. Harry Potter 3

Harry ran his hands through his hair and tried to decided if he would consider this an attack by Moldy-shorts. In front of him was a piece of parchment already address to the headmistress of Ilvermorny. 

Sending nightmares and blinding pain through their unusual connection was unnerving at best. Potter had not been willing to classify it an ‘attack’. 

He seriously wanted to consider Umbridge an attack but ultimately she was placed in Hogwarts by the Ministry of Magic. Frankly, she was an embarrassment to the entire sharad of a ministry and physical proof of how utterly useless and bureaucratic the whole system was. Still, she wasn’t technically loyal to Voldemort (so far as anyone knew). Harry knew he had drawn the line at attacks from Voldemort, he promised himself that he could handle anything else. 

Harry absently rubbed the scar on the back of his hand “I must not tell lies” was permanently scrawled across his hand in his own messy writing. He wondered if he had underestimated what the universe was willing to throw at him when we had considered Snake Face the worst. 

Which brought up the current catastrophe. Snape had started Occlumency lesson and they were mind torture. They were a factor of ten times worse than any of the twisted shit Potter had seen through Voldemort so far. Harry had just spent nearly an hour re-living his every worst memory. Degrading, embarrassing, humiliating, painful, heartbreaking, stomach clenching memories that had already given Harry nightmares once were brought up to the forefront of his mind for round two. 

This was just the first lesson too. There would be weeks more to endure and frankly Potter didn’t think he could. 

The long since healed scars on his back ached with phantom spasms of pain. The crystal clear memory of the hot crop slicing through his back while he knelt on the cement basement flashed to the front of his mind. 

Harry’s breath stopped. The low, midly errotic grunts of his uncle rang around him and drowned out the sound of the fire. 

Harry could feel the tension in his body forcing him to curl into a ball. 

He tried to force the memories back but they came again in a wave. Harry focused on the sound of the fire. The crackling, the snipping, the soft thud as a log dropped to the bottom. Every time the memories crashed over him like a wave, he pushed them back and focused on the fire again. Slowly the memory came crashing less often. It stayed in the edge of his mind like far off sea, ever present but not overwhelming. 

When he was certain the waves of grief, humiliation and pain would not come again. Harry began to focus on his breathing. He took as deep a breath as he could, filling his lungs and holding them full before very slowly letting them out. 

In time, his muscles relaxed and the adrenaline subsided. Harry stayed in a state of calm for a moment before pulling himself back to the present. 

There was no denying Occlumency lessons would be useful but Harry desperately wished they were more like mediation lessons with Abraxas. Lessons with the ancient Vampire were relaxing yet always taught him something new. He loved learning from the only decent Malfoy alive. 

A thought came to him, what if Abraxas knew Occlumency? Maybe Harry could endure the torture from Snape while actually learning from Abraxas. Harry would surely learn the basics faster and therefore get out of learning from Snape faster. Plus, Occlumency might actually be enjoyable then. Harry wished he could convince Dumbledore to let him drop lessons with Snape entirely but the headmaster had been avoiding Harry entirely all year so far. 

Harry grabbed a new bit of parchment and shoved the letter to Ilvermory aside. He wrote a quick note to Abraxas and sent it off with Hedwig. 

It was the middle of the night by the time Harry sent his letter. The common room was entirely empty. Harry had thought Abraxas would fire call him but instead, the vampire sent back with Hedwig a hand held gold mirror. 

“Abraxas?” Harry asked the mirror. Suddenly the vampire's face appeared. 

“Good morning James,” Harry looked at the clock. It was indeed morning. Having just struck four o’clock.

“I’m up in the garden so I thought this would be handier than lighting a fire in the middle of my rodadenrians” Abraxas laughed to himself but settled down when he sense Harry’s troubled state. “What’s wrong lad?” 

“I have to learn Occlumency-”

“Well you're halfway there already.” Abraxas said cheerfully. 

“Really?”

“Oh yes! The first thing to learning to defend the mind is to explore one’s mind through meditation. The second is to create a mind palace. Actually there is only three steps so I suppose you are two-thirds done.”

“What's the third step then?” Harry asked eagerly. 

“You needed to set up defences. Traps, hidden rooms, false memories, looped memories that sort of thing. Also you must make sure that all your memories reside in your mind palace otherwise a Legilimency will simply bypass your mind palace for your defenseless memories.” 

“So where do I start?” Harry pulled parchment out to take notes, but Abraxas waved im off. 

“Occlumency is an entirely hands on subject. It will do you very little good to read tombs and take notes. For tonight start moving your memories to places within your mind palace. Every night this week, spend a few minutes moving memories. When you get them all moved, call me again and I will walk you through making some defences.”

“Ok, sounds easy…” Harry looked sheepishly down at his feet, “Only how do I move the memories?”

“Ah my apologies! I should have explained that lad,” Abraxas let the responsibility fall to him not wanting the boy to feel unnecessarily embarrassed. Clearly whoever was his current teacher in the mind arts had already done quite a number on the boys sense of confidence. 

“You moved from your mind palace to a memory. Grab a bit of the memory and pull. You will find it coming up like a bit of canvas. Roll it up and take it back to your mind palace. There you can reshape it to a vase or something else, but many people prefer to simply create a memory room full of shelves were the memories are. If you do that, label your shelves, otherwise you will find you have a great deal of memory loss as things go missing.”

“If this is the case, if you find many of your memories are going missing, don’t fret. Stop moving memories and call me. We can meet sometime in Hogsmeade and I can explore your mind and teacher you within your mind what is going wrong.”

“Is that possible?”

“Legilimency doesn’t always have to be an attack” Abraxas said as patiently as possible. Inside he was seething. 

This teacher of Evans needed to be taken off at the knees. Abraxas had half a mind to ask for the teacher name, then hunt them down and take them out himself. 

“Ok, thank you so much. I’ll send this mirror back with Hedwig when she wakes up.”

“Nonsense, return it in the summer when you come to visit. I am sure we will talk again soon. Plus this means I can remind you if you don’t write often enough.” 

Harry grinned, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, best of luck with yours studies”

“Enjoy gardening!” 

The call ended and the mirror went back to being a mirror. Harry stared at the long, dark bags under his eyes, his thinning hair from the stress and wondered if maybe dropping out of school all together would be best. 

Instead of entertaining the thought, Potter closed his eyes and began rolling up his memories to be organized in his mind palace. 

…

“It’s just the one memory” Harry explained. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair he had been directed to by Aberforth Dumbledore, Albus’s brother and owner of the Hog’s Head. “It just springs out of its place in my mind palace constantly. It springs up at really inconvenient times too. Like yesterday when I was trying to talk to Cho.”

“Cho?”

Harry blushed and looked even more uncomfortable, “A girl”

“Ah.” Abraxas said knowingly, “Well that simply won't do. Let’s take a look then. Eye’s close, back straight, focus on your breathing.”

It took only a minutes for Potter to visibly relax and enter into his mind palace. Abraxas took from his robe a long purely white wand and pointed it at the boy's head, “Legilimens”. 

He found himself slipping into the boy’s mind scape. It was none other than the White Wyvern pub. Abraxas chuckled. “Very clever. I do feel right at home.” Abraxas noted approvingly that many of the details of the pub were not part of the mindscape itself but rather memories disguised to look the part.

Others were plain as day. In the real White Wyvern pub, a smoke dulled painting of a black clad witch hung to the left of the main door. In Evans’s mind palace, it was replaced with a huge mural of Evans, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. 

Suddenly a truth that Abraxas had overlooked for months occurred to him. James Evans did not really exist. This boy's mind was that of Harry James Potter, the boy who lived and Tom Riddle’s Arch Nemesis .

Abraxas felt a little vindictive in helping the boy no doubt shore up his defences against the would be Dark lord. 

“Well, which memory is it?” Abraxas turned to find Harry leaning against the bar in his work uniform. 

Harry pulled from under the counter a small metal box, covered in chains and welded shut. Still the box ratted and a crack was already forming along one seam. 

Abraxas took the boxes in his hands. In the tiny boxes was such a flood of emotions, Abraxas could feel the ting of pain and agony even through the many defences. 

“Emotions this big cannot be sealed in a boxes this small any more than an ocean could be sealed in a bottle.” 

“So the space is too small?”

Abraxas stared at the box thoughtfully, “Ultimately yes. You have two choices, work through the memory and lessen the emotional impact it has on you. Then the emotions will be smaller and the memory will fit in here, or clear out a very large space in your mind and stuff this very large memory into that space and seal that space off.”

“Hogwarts isn’t the best place for me to be working through things right now,” Harry said darkly. 

“Then for now, let’s clear out the basement and seal this away. I need you to promise that this summer you will work through this. If you need support then come to me and we will work through it together.”

“I’ll deal with it. I promise, sir.”

“Alright then.” 

Abraxas was uneasy about leaving such an agonizing memory unresolved but a store room in the back of the Hog’s Head that Aberforth had let them borrow uninterrupted for a couple of hours was no place to deal with something clearly so personal and intimate. 

For the thousandths time, Abraxas cursed the careless mind teacher that would let such an obvious issue fester. 

The two worked in Harry’s mind until the memory was safely locked away. As it was the last memory to be stored away, Abraxas took the time to teach Harry how to create various defences. They were all basic in nature, but it would be good practice for the boy, and from there more complex and intricate defence could easily be explained through the mirror. 

“I’m really glad you helped me learn Occlumency. I just wish Snape didn’t think so much of himself for being my supposed teacher.” 

Abraxas filed the names Snape away for further research and retribution. 

“You are doing very well. There is much more to learn but it will come in time. Next, we can work on your Legilimency skills.”

Harry looked surprised, “you think I should learn legilimency?”

“You must!” Abraxas insisted, “To learn Occlumency and not legilimency would be like pressing one side of a Kunt and not the other.”

“It would be useless?” Harry asked imagining an imageless Kunt coin. 

“Well certainly impractical.”

“Can I learn legilimency without someone to practice on?”

Abraxas frowned, “It would be very difficult. I would suggest finding someone who would let you practice on them. I would suggest my grandson but I understand you do not get along well.” Abraxas grinned at the lad’s discomfort.

“Ron and Hermione will help me.” Harry said confidently. 

When the pair returned to consciousness, the Hogsmeade trip was nearing its end and most of the students were already back at Hogwarts. Abraxas walked Harry back to the school before Vanishing himself back home.


	22. Abraxas Malfoy 2

“I wish to purchase this piece,” Abraxas declared. He pointed to the unnoteworthy ring sitting in a bin of tacky fake jewlery.

Abraxas looked up at the shop teller, a fresh graduate from Hogwarts whole grew up in Diagon Alley. They were hilariously out of their depth in the seedy Knockturn Alley pawn shop. 

“Um- ah- 2 Gallons Mr- sir.”

Abraxas flipped two Gallon coins onto the counter and waltz out with the precious heritage piece. How it managed to make its way back to the second hand shop so many years later was beyond Abraxas. 

Decades earlier, Tom Riddle had worked at the same vary shop. He had not been so easily fooled. When a wealthy widow had brought the piece into the second shop, he had managed to buy it privately right then and there.

It had been Tom’s most prized possession for years when he owned so very little. Times had been hard back then. A half-blood was doomed to poverty unless they had very powerful allies. Abraxas did what he could to help Tom, but there were limits to Abraxas’ power. Especially after he was turned. 

Abraxas run his thumb over the small black stone. It still felt like Tom. It lingered of his essence. 

Abraxas slipped the ring onto his left hand and let the cool metal sooth him. At first, he felt a negging feeling pushing at his mental walls. Abraxas was having a very long … decade really. Particularly, though, this week had been hell. It was only Thursday and his manner had already been ‘randomly’ searched by Auror twice. He was in no mood now to notice such little things like negging presence in his mind. 

The presence persisted though. After dealing with two rogue vampires and a small coven from France who were trying to encroach on his territory, Abraxas finally had time to himself. He sat in his favourite mahogany and leather chair and pulled out a blood pop Harry had given him for Christmas. 

The boy’s blood was simply heavenly. Abraxas had never tasted anything so divine in his entire existence. 

Abraxas was in the middle of a particularly enthusiastic moan of delight when the presents in his mind seemed to wiggle uncomfortably. Abraxas paused and probed the presence. 

“Tom?!” Abraxas yelped. 

The vampire shut his eyes and delved into his mind only to find Tom bloody Riddle sitting at the edge of Abraxas mindscape with his chin resting on his hands.

“Tom, what on earth?”

“I’m a horcrux” Tom blurted out. He blushed and scratched the back of his next. “Also, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

“I’m sure it is” Abraxas ton was icy and dispassionate. 

Tom crumbled into himself, “It wasn’t me. I meant, I’m not him. I’m not Smith-Me, or Muggle Tramp- Me, or Albanian Peasant-Me or even Potter-me. I’m not that twisted.” Tom was back to being 17, just graduated Hogwarts and filled with anger and confusion. This Tom had gone through an identity crises when his good grades and high achievement at Hogwarts was totally disregarded in a world of purebloods. 

This Tom deeply regretted killing Myrtle but not framing Hagrid. This Tom had such a hatred for his own father that, after getting particularly drunk, had killed the muggle. But that was as far as this Toms’ transgression reached. This Tom knew how to duel but he wasn’t battled hardened. This Tom hated more easily than he loved, but his Tom was not without empathy. 

Abraxas felt torn. The Tom he hated, the Tom that had so thoroughly betrayed him wasn’t here, but a version of him was. Abraxas missed this Tom but he still loathed the Tom that stole his child and exiled him to Knockturn Alley in a bid for power. 

“I have a nicer room you can wait in, but I’m not letting you have free reign of my mind, Tom.” Abraxas lead the way down the winding network of halls in the Malfoy Manor until they came to the lessor dining room. Abraxas opened the door and let Tom in. Then he set up extra wards and precautions to prevent him from wandering back into the house. 

Tom looked around the room in wonder.

It occurred to Abraxas that 17 year old Tom hadn’t yet been to Malfoy manor. After Abraxas wife had died, when Lucius was just a baby and before Abraxas had been turn, Tom had spent a great deal of time in the Manor. Until Abraxas and Lucius were exiled from the manor, this had been Tom’s home too. 

“What’s it like?” Abraxas asked Tom. 

Tom bit his lip. It was such an adolescent tell. Voldemort had trained himself out of the nervous habit but Tom still did it. “All of us existed in the same space. Or we did. A few years ago, Potter killed Myrtle-me. Otherwise, all the versions of me were there. At first it was Myrtle-me and Father-me” Tom pointed to himself, “together on one end and the others all clumped together away from us. As time went, Potter-Me became far more sane. He joined Myrtle-me and Father-me. It was different than living. Emotions, feelings, needs, they were all so abstract as a horcrux.” 

“When you say Myrtle-Me, what do you mean?”

“I mean the horcrux created when I killed Myrtle.”

“I thought as much.” Abraxas looked over at Tom. It hurt a little having him so close. His rage and his want were at war with each other. “I have to go, my Coven needs me.”

“Coven?”

“I was turned.” 

“Oh, I- It wasn’t my fault was it?” 

Abraxas was so struck by the question he almost didn’t answer. Abraxas had forgotten how self-conscious Tom had been, how caring he was capable of being before he literally torn himself to shreds. 

“No Tom, it was my father’s fault.”

“Oh. Will you turn me out?”

“No, but I might not let you in.”

Tom accepted the honesty with good grace. 

Abraxas exited his mind palace and came back to reality. The fire had burned low and the room had turned cold again,. It didn’t bother Abraxas, but it wasn’t good for the plants to get too cold. 

Days passed and Abraxas kept the ring on his finger. Tom settled himself into Abraxas conscious, adding helpful information and running commentary to Abraxas’ day. Some days, Abraxas debated taking the ring off, but he could never bring himself too. 

Abraxas was still angry with Voldemort. As time when, though, Abraxas found himself drawing lines between Voldemort and Tom. They were simply too different now. 

At Tom’s request, Abraxas looked into ways to give Tom a corporeal form again. Every spell they found require sacrificing a life though, so Abraxas refused. He was surprised when Tom gave no word of protest. Personally, Abraxas would have been infuriated if he was so close to being whole again only for his best friend to deny him. 

Weeks flew by with Tom content to experience the word through Abraxas’ eyes, until mid-afternoon May 1st.

It was the middle of the day. Shutters and heavy curtains were draw across every window to block out the sun light. The plants were all waters, the wash hung to dry, and Abraxas was sleeping peacefully in his favorite king sized bed. 

It was all very tranquil right up to the point where an entire auror squad came storming into the manor. 

“What the HELL is going on!” Abraxas stood at the top of his stairs glaring down at the unflinching aurors armed in full battle robes. 

The head auror paused to look up but he did not respond. “Mctavish, what is going on? Where is your search warrant?”

“What search warrant?” Mctavish grinned. 

The hairs on the back of Abraxas’ neck stood on end. They weren’t here legally and there would be no repercussions for what they did to him. 

‘Run!’ Tom screamed in his mind, fear for Abraxas’ safety clouded around Tom. 

Abraxas shock it off. Mctavish searched the manor weekly. He made a mess but that was about it. Mind you, Mctavish was normally restrained by whatever limits the search warrant of the week outlined. 

Abraxas clasped his hands behind his back so he could pull at his cuticles without giving away his nervousness.

The tell tale sounds of a shutter being opened and heavy curtains being drawn back caught Abraxas attention.”You don’t need the curtains open to search my property. Use Lumos please.” Abraxas knew he was being ignored. His heart started to race, what the hell were they planning?

Abraxas turned to ask Mctavish as much, but his view was suddenly washed out by a ball of blue light. Abraxas had time enough to realize he was screwed but nothing more. His limbs seized up and he fell onto the hardwood floor. Clammy hands grabbed his wrist and ankles. The Aurors dragged him into the study where the open window was. Abraxas’ heart jumped into his throat as they neared the stream of hot afternoon sun. 

“Now, one of your little shit coven members, Cornex, attacked my daughter last night.”

Mctavish pointed to the patch of sun on the hardwood floor. The aurors tossed him into the beam. The light scorch and branded his skin. Abraxas’ suddenly deeply regretted not wearing a shirt to bed. The agony was mind melting, but he swallowed back the screams. He would not give Mctavish the satisfaction. 

Cool hands dragged him back into the shade. Abraxas couldn’t stop the sob of relief from escaping.

“Now blood sucker, where could we find Cornex?” Everyone in the room knew Abraxas’ couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. The full body binding spell wouldn’t let him speak. Instead he glared up at the head Auror. 

Mctavish smirked down at Abraxas twitching helplessly on the floor. He said nothing, but pointed back at the sun beams. The two nameless, faceless aurors tossed him back into the light. Abraxas’ back arched reflexively an ear piercing scream bubbled up and out his throat. The window split in two when Abraxas wailed out in agony. 

They left him in the sun until his skin began to boil and blacken. When they finally pulled him back out, Abraxas curled into himself and sobbed. He was vaguely aware that he’d broken the full body bind, but he was in too much excruciating pain to do anything about it. 

“Where is Cornex?” Mctavish bit out. 

Abraxas’ could already feel cool hands on his ankles. He tried to curl up, but the arms pulled him taunt and got ready to throw him again. For some reason they stopped suddenly. There was a sound downstairs. People had just entered the manor. 

“Abraxas? Abraxas? Rose wanted to look at your library, is that alright? Abraxas are you here?” A voice called out. 

It was Kolos and his pack. There must have been 50 or so of them in his front entrance way. They were making their way up the stairs. 

“Out, Out. I’m not taking on the entire bloody pack of werewolves.” Mctavish hustled his aurors to the fire and out of the manor.

Abraxas eyes had been burned out of his skull. They would regrow but until then, he was entirely blind. He could still hear though, the soft panting was Remus leaning over him.

“Rose,” Abraxas croaked, “Can come read any time she likes.” 

Remus and Kolos laughed weakly. The most Abraxas could do was grimace. 

Kolos took most of his pack back to their apartment complex, but Remus and several others stayed. They put the manor back together and guarded the entrances. 

Ragnok came over near midnight with several bags of blood from various half-cut pub regulars. The blood helped expedite the healing processes with the added bonus of getting abraxas so sloshed he couldn’t feel anything.

When Abraxas was finally fit enough to manage for himself, the pack left, and his coven members stopped hovering at his elbow Abraxas went out to find Cronex. He dragged the wayward vampire back to his manor and down into the basement where the ritual rooms were. 

“You have caused me enough trouble, Conex. I have no more patience for your blatant disobedience.” Abraxas informed the young vampire. 

Cornex gave some long winded speech about vampires being better than witches and wizards. He tried to convince Abraxas that vampires needed to rise up, show the wizards who was boss. Abraxas had already heard a very similar thesis statement decades ago. It hadn’t worked then, and it certainly wasn’t going to work now. 

He strapped Cornex to a sacrifice table and set Tom’ ring at the top. From his library, Abraxas found a ritual that would strip Corner of his life force and give it to Tom. 

It took a little over an hour. By the end of it, there was nothing left of Cornex. In his wake, was Tom Riddle, 17 disheveled and impoverished. He looked as if he has just stepped out of an old photo. 

Abraxas was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. Regret and vindication for Cornex’s death. Hatred and love for Tom 

Tom wrapped his arms around Abraxas and let his best friend sob into his shoulder.


	23. Rose Stillwater

“Come on” Liam yelled at his two slow-poke pack mates. Lisa and Rose were in no rush today. The sun was out, the moon would be full tonight and they were feeling good. They meandered up and down the back alleys away from the regular stampede of people down Knockturn Alley proper. 

“I want to get there before the shops close” Liam reminded his twin when Lisa ignored his plea.

Lisa giggled but speed up the pace all the same.

“Where should we go first?” Rosa asked Liam

“We’re just going to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour” Lisa reminded the two.

Liam waved her off, “we have to see more than that. When will get this chance again?”

“Mom said we could go get Ice cream, she didn’t even technically say we could go to Diagon Alley” Lisa bit her lip and slowed her pace. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

Liam grinned, “she didn’t say we couldn’t go either.” 

“Liam, everyone knows we're not allowed in Diagon Alley.”

Liam shrugged, “Remus goes all the time and no one yells at him.”

Rose barked in laughter, “Remus is an adult plus he’s not technically part of the pack. He leads his own pack.”

“Bit of a shit pac- Aw! Lisa!”

“Don’t. Say. mean. Things. About Remus!” Lisa whacked her twin again for good measure. The only reason any of them could read, write, do math, and cast basic spells was because of Remus. 

The trio walked on in silence. They wandered past drunk goblins and hunched up hags until they came to the bisection of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. 

The three stood off to the side, still in the mouth of Knockturn Alley. Witches and Wizards streamed past them but the other Creatures remained inside Knockturn. They didn’t even come to the mouth. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this” Lisa whispered to Liam. 

“Nothing ever happens to Remus. Look we’ll go get an ice cream and come right back. We don’t have to go into any other stores.” Liam assured his twin. 

Rose nodded in agreement. For all her brave talk earlier, she was shaking in her boots looking at the sea of well dressed witches and wizards. “We just have to walk confidently and act like we belong.” Rose insisted. 

“Easy for you to say” Lisa whimpered. 

Rose took a deep breath, straightened her back and lead the way out of Knockturn and into Diagon. Reluctantly Lisa and Liam followed behind. 

No one seemed to notice they were werewolves. 

Rose slowed herself so she walked evenly with Liam and Lisa. 

“Liam, you have to order the ice cream” She whispered. She turned her face to shield her face from passersby

“Why-”

“Because” Rose cut him off forcefully, “Lisa is too shy and I have wolf teeth. They’ll know what I am if I start rambling on. Let’s just pretend I’m mute.”

“Can’t you always be mute” Liam muttered under his breath.

Rose glared at him but said nothing.

Liam ordered their ice cream without incident. He suggested sitting in the shop to eat but both the girls wanted to get home as quickly as possible. The exhilaration of coming to Diagon Alley had faded into the shadow of bone withering fear. 

The trio took their ice cream and headed in a beeline for the Knockturn Alley. 

They hadn’t made it two steps out of the shop when a little boy grabbed at Rosa’ ice cream. He hadn’t meant anything by it and Rose wasn’t mad or anything, but her instincts kicked in. She snapped and snarled at the boy. 

The mother looked aghast and the boy began to scream. Huge alligator tears streamed down his face. 

“Oh no.” Lisa wheezed in horror. 

The mother had pulled out a wand and had it trained right at Rose’s heart. 

“I- Sorry. It just happened -I didn’t -I’m sorry!” The mother wasn’t listening to the words coming out of Rose’ mouth, she was too concentrated on Rose’ teeth. 

“WEREWOLF!” The mother’s voice cut over her son’’s crying and brought the attention of every Diagon Alley pedestrian down on the group. 

Lisa grabbed Rose and Liam, “Come on!” 

The trio abandoned their ice cream and sprinted towards the mouth of Knockturn alley. 

“Hurry!” Rose shouted. Liam and Lisa kept getting jostled by the crowded. Someone reached out and grabbed Lisa by the hair. Rose didn’t even blink, she lunged at the man. The wizard let out a surprised yelp and let go. Rose hulled Lisa to her feet and shoved her towards Knockturn Alley. 

It was no use those. Several Aurors were already on the seen. Rose and Lisa watched in horror as Liam got hit by a full body bind. 

Rose let got of Lisa and tried to grab Liam. When Rose let go, Lisa stumbled and an auror hit her too. Rose straightened at watched the third spell head straight for her chest. She could have ducked out of its path, but she couldn’t escape with Liam and Lisa and she wasn’t leaving them behind. 

Rose felt the muscle tensing sensation of the body bind. When her head hit the brick walkway, she lost consciousness. 

…

“It’s farel, doc. No visitors allowed.” Rose Stillwater awoke to the sound of two unfamiliar voices arguing. Mom and Aunt J often argued, but these voices were both male. 

Rose tried to sit up. She had fallen asleep in an odd position and now her muscles ached. When she tried to move they seized up. She let out a long low whimper of pain. 

The voices quieted for a moment. “See” one said to the other, “She needs to be at least checked over. There will be hell to pay if we loss another one this week.” 

“No one goes in a farel’s cage. You know the rule doc. Go look after the other two.”

The first voice let out a long slur that Rose didn’t recognise but he left all the same. 

“Where am I?” Rose asked the second voice, who hadn’t left yet. 

She could still smell the second guard. He was still just outside whatever room she was in, but he didn’t answer her. 

Rose felt groggy and dehydrated. She tried to sit up only to find she couldn’t. It wasn’t a matter of her muscles seizing up, her arms were chained. 

Rose arched her back and looked up. Her arms were chained to the edge of the metal frame of the bed. She looked down. Her ankles were chained as well. 

Whatever had kept her unconscious was fading. With it came a pain in her wrist and ankles. Rose hissed and pulled but it only made the pain worse. There was silver painted on the inside of the cast iron chains. 

“Please, sir, these chains they hurt!” Rosa tried to get the second man’s attention but he stubbornly stayed quiet. 

Rose tried tugging again. The chains rattled but they would not come loose. Rose tried twisting her wrist this way and that, but the cuffs were on too tight. Nothing she did seemed to make any difference. 

Rose looked around her cage to see if there was anything she could use to break free. The bed was placed in the center of a windowless concrete slab. The only other thing in the room were rat droppings. When Rose looked up at her arms, she could see an imposing silver door that lead out of the cage. On the other side, she could hear the quiet pacing of a guard. 

For hours, Rose lay in agony on the thin material. Occasionally she called out to the guard but he studiously ignored her pleas. 

Finally, the door opened. Rose looked up to see a plastic tray being slid into the room. The tantalizing smell of food reached her nose. The door slammed shut. At first, Rose was too shocked to move. How was she suppose to eat if the tray was so far away? 

“Please! I can’t reach my food. Please just unlock the chains!” but no one answered. 

It felt like days passed before the door opened. An older women took the uneaten tray and replaced it with a new one. Rose tried calling out to her, but the women ignored Rose. 

Rose’s stomach grumbled. The pains in her wrist were now dull throbs compared to the pain in her stomach. “Please! Please sir!” Rose called out pitifully for hours but no one answered. The guards changed and then changed back. The old women came and switched the food but no one unchained her. 

Rose pulled at the chains. She had no strength anymore, but she would always be stubborn. She twisted and pulled at the chains. Her wrist trickled blood, which Rose used to lubricate the cuffs. It was no use though, the cuffs were too tight. 

Rose slipped in and out of consciousness. She could feel the pull of the moon strengthening. Hadn’t it just been the full moon, though? She thought to herself. She was nearly positive that it was the day of the full moon when she had been caught by the aurors. How had so much time passed? 

Rose Stillwater was certain she must be going insane. Maybe a witch had cast a spell on her to make it feel like the moon was full again. 

But it couldn’t have been a spell because when night fell, Rose began to change. Rose had never transformed without a pack before. She left trapped and insane. She felt a foreign bloodlust that scared her more than the pain of transforming while strapped to a horizontal bed. 

The room echoed with howls of pain and frustration. Rose used her wolf strength to finally bust out of the chains. The first thing she did was to eat the cold, stale food sitting on the plastic tray. Then she shredded the material on the bed. 

The door was silver. Touching it meant suffering from severe burns but Rose didn’t care. She was terrified and needed to escape. She crawled and bit at the door all night until the moon waxed and she was left a shivering naked mass in the center of the prison. Every breath hurt her chest. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to sleep off the pain until the next meal came. 

As she slept Rose dreamt of overpowering the old women the next time she brought food. Rose dreamt of running all night down dark hallways while aurors chased her. When she finally smelt grass, she reached the last door in the hall and flung it open. 

Rose eyes flew open only to find nothing but cement and bed stuffing. Rose curled up and sobbed so hard she was certain her ribs would crack and she would just fall apart into a pile of goo. 

The guards changed again. This guard was new and a female. 

“Please, miss! Please! I just want to go home!” Rose called frantically. She crawled as close to the door as she could bare. She didn’t dare touch it though. “I’m so tired and weak. I just want to go home and see my mom.” Rose whipped the tears from her face. She tried to think about what Remus talked about. He had mentioned that it can help to build an empathic bond when dealing with people from the ministry.

“Don’t you ever feel so scared you just lash out? I’m not dangerous. Please miss, I’m just scared. I’m a kid. I miss my mom, I’ve never been away from her for so long.” The guard was unmoved, “don’t you have kids?”

Rose knew the guard did, she could smell it on her. The guard had a small infant child. “You would never treat you child like this would you?” Rose could hear the guard shift uncomfortably, “Please, I just want to go home! Let me go home! I’m so tired. Everything hurts.” Rose couldn’t swallow down the tears any longer. She began to sob. Rose pounded the floor in frustration when she heard the guard turn away from her. 

“You a monster!” she screaked between sobs. “Only monsters treat litte girl likes this! Let me out. Let me OUT! LET ME OUT!”

No one came. 

There was no food that night, nor the next, nor ever again. The door remained firmly shut. Every day without fail, Rose bagged the guards to let her out, to give her food, to show her mercy but the door remained shut. 

When the hunger grew to be too much, Rose ate the stuffing from her bed. 

When the women guard came, Rose told her all of her favourite childhood memories. She spent a whole day retelling the guard about the time she made banana bread with her aunt J and they forgot it in the oven. 

Sometimes the guard would let out a surprised laugh or a gasp but she never properly responded. Worst of all, she never let Rose out. 

Another full moon came. Rose Stillwater’s mind snapped that night. She clawed at the door, at the walls, at the tangled metal bed frame, and finally at herself. 

In the morning, the female guard put in an immediate stress leave and vowed to either be transferred or go back to selling racing brooms.

One of the higher ups went to visit the cell just as the female guard was leveling. Trailing behind them was an imposing witch and a prim looking Mediwitch. The higher up ordered the the huge silver door to be shoved open. The female guard fled around the corner and away from the smell of Rose’ Prison. 

Inside the cement cube was chaos. Every last flake of stuffing was gone. Rat bones littered the floor. In the center was a small lump of flesh


	24. Harry Potter 4

Evans felt the tension in his shoulders finally roll away as he crossed the threshold into Knockturn Alley. Evans had his school chest shrunk down and in his pocket. Hedwig sat perched on his left shoulder. They both took in the comfortable sights and sounds of Knockturn Alley. 

Hags and vampires alike welcomed Evans back to the ally. 

“Where’s Jason Samuels?” One of the street rats ran up to Evans. They had a broom tucked under one arm and a led pipe held loosely in the other. 

Overhead, a massive seven team quidditch game was raging.

“Duck” Someone yelled. Evans dropped to his knees just in time for the street rat to take a great swing and send the bludger back up into the sky. It missed the Ilvermorny student and went creaming into the side of The Starry Prophesier shop. 

“Sorry Evans!” Someone yelled from up above. 

The owner of The Starry Prophesier sent a blast of magic into the air and the quidditch players all scrambled. 

“Jason got a letter from his Aunt in Bath. He’s gone to stay with her for the summer.”

“Lucky shit! Well, anyways the Hogwarts team have their hoops set up on the by the Tattoo parlour if you want to join in the game. Jason owes me a new broom. Dang, I was hoping to play today.”

Evans took a closer looked at the broom tucked under the street rats arm. He hadn’t noticed before, but it was split down the center. 

“I can fix if you want” Evans offered. 

The street rat looked skeptical, but he handed it over. 

Evans ran his hand over the handle. Twigs grew and bridged the gap, pulling the handle back together. Evans cast his magic through the broom, fixing the shotty flying spells on the broom. When he passed it back to the street rat, the broom looked better than new.

The kids face lit up, “Well shit Evans, you really are the best! Thanks, I owe you one. See ya up there?”

“Maybe another time”

“Your loss” The street rat clamoured onto his broom and shot up into the air just in time to hit another bludger and send it streaming off down the alley. 

Evans carried on down the familiar side alleys until he came to his apartment. It was as ugly and smelly as he remembered it. Evans grinned ear to ear as he made his way up the main staircase. 

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. 

Malvin had left the place spotless. He had even bought a proper table set and a couch and ottoman for the living room. The elf had even painted a few pictures of the alley and hung them around. 

Evans looked through the art. Some of the paintings were of places, like the White Wyvern or the inside of the Tattoo parlour. Others were of people. Megan was up to her elbows in soapy water with her hair tied back in a messy bun in one frame. In the kitchen there was a painting of Abraxas and Ragnok in the White Wyvern kitchen during christmas with Remus sitting on one of the counters and Padfoot sleeping under his feet. 

A note was left in the kitchen 

Thank you for letting me rent your apartment this year. Sorry I couldn’t return the favour and leave homemade meals. I’m a terrible cook. I left you some paintings instead. Hope you like them! My time in Knockturn Alley was amazing and I really appreciate your welcome. If you have time this summer, you should come visit Canada so I can return the favor!   
All the best,   
Malvin

Evans smiled as he re-read the note. He cast a sticky charm on it and stuck it to the cold box. 

Evans unpacked his things, changed and head down to the White Wyvern. 

He intended to grab a drink and see if they had any work from him for the summer, but Megan kidnapped him as soon as he walked in. she shoved him onto the grill to make food. 

“Cook has bad case of Warlock flu and had to leave early. We don’t have anyone as back up right now. Boss is away visiting family and none of the rest of us can cook.” 

Megan wrapped her arms around Evans, “Good to see you by the way Evans. Home’s felt empty without you.” 

Evans squeezed Megan’s arm in return. He didn’t trust himself to respond. 

Evans cooked until the kitchen closed, then he scrubbed everything down just like Cook liked. Megan and the waitress with sashaying hips had a cold drink waiting for him when he finished up.

“Come talk to Kolos,” Megan said. 

Kolos looked angry and drunk. 

Megan looked more annoyed than frightened. 

“You’re not storming the Ministry, Kolos. Your whole pack will get slaughtered if you try.”

“They took our children!” He screamed at Megan. His teeth were pointed and his eyes had gone yellow. I was a week or so before the full moon, but Kolos already looked half transformed. 

Kolos dug his nails into the bar, “They took ‘em and- and- I want ‘em back!” 

“Kolos” Evans started, he approached the older werewolf steadily. When Kolos lunged forward, Evans offered his throat submissively. Kolos looked taken aback, but he snapped his jaw around Evans’s neck nonetheless. 

“Why’d ya let me do that?” Kolos pulled back and gripped Evans tightly by the shoulder “No wizard ever lets a werewolf do that.”

Evans just shrugged. “It’s what you do in a pack right? Remus does it sometimes without thinking.”

Kolos nodded slowly, “You’re a good packmate Evans”

‘“Thanks Kolos. Can you tell me what happened?”

Kolos shock his head, he was too miserable tell the story again.

Megan leaned back into the conversation, “weeks ago now Lisa, Liam and Rose went wandering in Diagon alley. They just wanted some ice cream. Something happened. The Ministry says they attacked a small child. Obviously no one buys that but that’s their story and they’re sticking with it. Anyways, they say that the Farkas pack is an ‘unstable environment for children’ and refuse to give them back.”

“Alright Kolos. I’m going to take you home now. In the morning I’m going to call a friend and we are going to look into this.” Evans slid an arm under Kolos and pulled him to his feet. 

“You’re going to get my pups back?” Kolos looked deliriously happy. 

“I’m certainly going to try” was all Evans could promise. 

“You’re a good lad, Evans. The best pup a werewolf could ever ask for. If you ever get tired of old Remus, you just come to me ok. I’ll take ya in” Kolos gave Evans an affectionate lick on the side of his face. 

Evans shivered and tried to subtle whip his face off without offending Kolos. 

When Evans got to the main door of the Farkas apartment two older werewolves were there to help move Kolos into his favourite leather chair. 

They tisked and tutted at Kolos. Before Evans could leave, they shoved some dinner into his arms and made him promise to come visit soon. 

Evans didn’t bother walking back to his own apartment. He went straight to Abraxas to ask what he knew about Creature laws. Abraxas gave what advice he could, but the vampire had never had much luck when it came to the Cloaks in the ministry. Most of them refused to admit he was even alive anymore. 

In the early hours of the morning, Evans made his way to the Leaky Cauldron and out into muggle London. He caught the Knight bus to Hermione Granger’s house. This was a battle he would need his law expert for. 

The Toad’s incessant rule making and the law books Evans had regifted to Hermione had lit a legal fire in her. Hermione Jean Granger was now an expert in creature law. Specifically, House Elf law but she had mentioned unfair werewolf laws too.

It was seven in the morning when Evans tentatively knocked at the Granger house. He held in his arms; a legal note pad, two black coffees, breakfast from a local diner, and a law book on werewolf minors Abraxas had lent him. 

Mrs. Granger was the one to open the door. 

Evans blushed, “Sorry Mrs. Granger, to knock so early. Is Hermione here? I need her help with something.”

The women looked a little perplexed and not at all approving but she let him in.

“Evans!” Hermione flung herself down the stairs and into the foyer. She was dressed in magical dancing Unicorn pajamas. She flung her arms around him in a tight embrace before letting go to grab a coffee and the legal book. 

“I brought breakfast too”.

“Oh yes, we should eat” Hermione seemed a little put out, but she tucked the legal book under one arm and took the take out bags from Evans. “Lets go set up in the dining room. So what's this all about?”

“I told you about the Farkas pack yeah?”

“Sure,” Hermione grinned, “You made us Transforming cookies that one night.”

“Three of the children were abducted weeks ago by aurors and the pack can’t get them back. I offered to at least try.”

Hermione pursed her lips which was never a good sign, “if anyone can do it, it’s you Evans but it won't be easy.”

“Abducting children?” Evans hadn’t realized Mrs. Granger was standing in the doorway listening. “That’s terrible. Hermione Jean, you get those children back, young lady! I’ll set the coffee pot on, I know I can’t do much as a normal person, but if you think of something you just let your father and I know.” Hermione’s mom lent down had kissed her daughter's hair before marching from the room.

At 10 in the morning, Evans and Hermione walked into the ministry just as it opened to the public. 

When they first got there, they were sent to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes where they spent an hour filling in paperwork only to be told that they needed to go to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

They spent an hour filling out different paperwork and then three hours sitting in the Auror Office being told that there ‘was simply nothing that could be done”. 

When the head Auror clued in that Hermione and Evans would not accept that answer, he sent them back down to the main floor with instructions to get an appointment with someone from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

It took several hours at the front desk to even get an appointment booked as the secretary kept claiming that there were no openings until October. Evans only skimmed the witches mind with legilimens to know that it was a lie. Hermione said magic wasn’t necessary, the lie was written all over her face. When the Ministry started to close, the secretary finally relented and gave them an appointment at 10 the next day with someone from the Pest Advisory Board. 

Hermione gave a predatory grin and thanked the witch for her time. That night Hermione slept on Evans’s new couch after sending her mother a note with Hedwig. 

The next day, they went to their first appointment at 10 am which lasted 20 minutes before they were redirected back to the auror’s office. 

They were sent back to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures after lunch to talk to someone from the Beast Division. They were there until the ministry closed for the night.

On Wednesday they went straight up to the Being Division. 

On Thursday, Hermione dragged Evans right to the Ministry of Magic’s office. They spent all day waiting to see him only to get shooed out at 5. 

On Friday, Hermione and Evans walked shoulder to shoulder up to the Minister's Office. The asked for the next available meeting and took up seats in the waiting room. 

The minister was not impressed but he found time to see them. Hermione explained the situation, only she never mentioned that Liam, Lisa and Rose were werewolfs. Immediately the minister got to work fixing the problem. 

There was an amazing moment when the Minister of Magic realized it was werewolf children he was valiantly saving. The look of confliction between saving face and carrying on and apathetically sending Hermione and Evans away would have been priceless if it weren’t for the situation. 

Evans was taken to collect Liam and Lisa from a foster home. They were both relieved to be going home and clung to Evans all the way back to the Farkas apartment

Hermione was sent to collect Rose. She was told that the little werewolf was not in great condition. Hermione did not trust herself to assess the child's health and she trusted no one from the ministry so she fire called Madame Pomfrey. The Hogwarts Mediwitch flooded right over and accompanied Hermione down to the bowels of the ministry where Rose was being kept. 

Evans and Hermione had already signed a magical contract promising not to take further action against the ministry if they got the children back. Poppy did not. She documented all of the abuse, patched up Rose as best she could and sent a scathing letter to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for their lack of involvement in youth care cases and another to every paper and journal in the country. 

Hermione fire called Remus to let him know that Rose was free but needed medical attention. 

Hermione sayed with Rose when Pomfrey brought the little werewolf to the Hogwarts hospital wing. She explained who she was and why Rose was there. In the afternoon, she read to Rose who smiled ear to ear and watched Hermione the entire time. 

Hermione stayed the night. When Rose woke from nightmares, Hermione snuggled up to her and read muggle princess stories until the pup fell back asleep curled into Hermione’s side. 

That night, Hermione decided she wasn’t going to wait, she was going to change the ministry this year. The Ministry had spent a week telling her and Evans that there was nothing that they could do. If they had accepted that answer, Rose Stillwater would be dead. 

Hermione wasn’t going to accept no ever again.


	25. Hermione Granger

“The vote is tomorrow, but it looks positive. After the Stillwater scandal no one wants to appear apathetic in this issue. At this rate, by the end of the week, it will be illegal to fire someone because they are a Creature.” Hermione beamed at Evans.

“That’s great news” Evans hadn’t understood most of what Hermione had been campaigning for, but he did understand that the passing of this bill would make life easier for everyone in Knockturn Alley. 

Hermione opened her mouth only to be cut off by Evans’s apartment door banging open and a grinning Marcus Flint swooping into the apartment. 

Marcus was wearing his work uniform from the second hand shop. Under one arm, he had a box of books which he handed to Hermione rather than Evans. 

“I see you really appreciated my gift,” he quipped at Evans. 

“They found a better home.”

“So I heard, congratulations lobbyist Granger. You’ve been making waves in the Creature community with your outspoken criticism of the Ministry.”

Marcus flopped himself on the opposite side of the couch as Hermione. He toed of his shoes and flung his feet up onto Hermione’s lap. Evans hid a grin behind his palm when Hermione batted Marcus’ feet down without pausing in the legal jargon she was reading over. 

“Come on sweet thing, I’ve had a long day at work. Just a little toe rub for the bread winner?”

Hermione flicked her wand at Marcus and sent him jumping from the coach with a stinging charm, “Don’t ‘sweat thing’ me.”

“I like you Granger” Marcus flopped back down onto the couch, “You’re a real firecracker.” 

“Lunch is almost ready,” Evans cut in, “Today is Grilled Chimera with a Fresh Nectarine Salsa”. 

Hermione organize and put away her documents while Marcus got up and set the table for the three of them. “Are you staying the night,” Evans asked Marcus. 

Marcus looked over at Hermione. Doubt cross over his face. 

Hermione managed to catch the look as she was turning to put the legal books back on the shelf. “Don’t mind me Flint, I’m heading over to Abraxas Malfoy's manor for a brief meeting before I go to dinner at the Weasley house”.

Marcus raised a skeptical eyebrow at Hermione. Vampires don’t meet during the day. That was a hard and fast rule. Someone as powerful as Abraxas Malfoy agreeing to meet during the day meant a great deal.

“Are you just going to walk over there yourself?” Marcus swept his eyes over the firecracker witch with wild hair and fierce eyes. Granted he would never jump her in an Alley but a vampire or a hag might. 

“Yes of course. I don’t need an escort” Hermione challenged. 

For the rest of the meal, Hermione and Marcus bantered about feminism in Knockturn while Evans sat patiently and listened. Despite both their best efforts, Evans tactfully avoided getting involved. 

After lunch, Evans got ready for work at the pub, Marcus cleaned up the dishes and Hermione packed up her things and left for her meeting with a vampire. 

Hermione grabbed her pastel coloured summer cloak from the brass cloak hanger by the door and swung it over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Harry?” 

“Evans” Evans corrected absentmindedly, “yes, I promised you earlier that I would be at the press release after the vote.” 

“Good, Ron is coming too by the way. Wear something nice,”

Evans poked his head out of his room. He was half changed into his work uniform. “I don’t have anything nice” his voice had an edge of panic to it. 

“Boys, honestly. Did Abraxas not give you those dress robes you stuffed to the bottom of your trunk.”

Evans grinned sheepishly, “...yes”

“Good then wear the green ones tomorrow and do something with your hair. It looks like a birds nest.”

“Your one to talk” Marcus quipped good naturally. He ducked to avoid the stingily hex Hermione flicked his way. 

“Well I’m off. Owl me if you need anything else.” Hermione shut the door firmly behind her and trotted off down the hall. 

Hermione didn’t know Knockturn Alley that well, so she had to regularly stop and ask hags for directions. Some were a bit iffy, and all of them looked positively putrid, but most were friendly and helpful. It took longer than she would have liked, but Hermione still managed to make it to Abraxas’ manor on time. 

When she reached the large ornate doors, she raised her hand to knock but it swung open as she raised her hand. 

Standing in the doorway was none other than Tom Riddle. He looked nearly identical to the image Hermione had seen in Evans’s mind during their Occlumency lessons, only Tom wasn’t wearing school robes and he had an ugly black eye. 

Tom Riddle bit nervously at his lip and waved haphazardly at the sitting room door behind him. “You can come in. Abraxas told me to wake him when you got here.” 

Hermione stood stalk still, mouth hanging open like a fish. She felt like her brain had just short circuited. In fact, she was certain her eyes had turned the same alarming blue screen of death colour that her father computer sometime went. 

“Or you can just stand there staring at me. That’s fine, I get it all the time.” Tom grinned easily at Hermione, but he still bit at his lip when Hermione didn’t respond. “Are you deaf?” angry was starting to leach into his voice. 

Angry villains Hermione could deal with. It was the self conscious ones she couldn’t handle. 

“Of course I can hear you, don’t be daft.” She marched in past Tom. With as much grace as she could muster, she flicked her cloak off with a bust of pure magic and had it float over to the cloak hanger. 

Tom looked suitably impressed.

“This way, shall I prepare tea or coffee on.” Coffee was said with unmistakable disdain. 

“Tea will do. Earl Grey if you have it.” 

Tom gave a well practiced shallow bow and slid back out of the sitting room where he left Hermione. 

Hermione felt out of her depth. Tom Riddle was back and living with the most powerful vampire in Knockturn Alley, who was a Malfoy no less. Things likely couldn’t get any worse. Hermione could hear their mother’s voice in the back of head telling her this was far too dangerous. She needed to get out now and… and tell… someone. Possible Dumbledore. Yes, definitely Dumbledore. The headmaster would know what to do or could at least come up with a plan. It would be plain suicide to stay.

Unfortunately, by the time Hermione came to that conclusion, Tom Riddle was back with a tray of tea floating behind him. 

“Abraxas will be down shortly. I prepared a light tea.” With a flick of his wrist, the tray settled itself on the table between them. A three tiered golden tray was loaded with finger sandwiches and sweats. The unmistakable aroma of fresh Earl Grey, perfectly steeped came wafting from the pot. 

Hermione smiled at the blatant show of power. Two could play at that game, “Shall I serve us then?” 

“Please” He challange. 

Hermione tapped her finger on the arm her seat. Two streams of tea snaked out of the tea pot spot and slithered their way through the air to the tea cups. Without spilling a drop both tea cups were filled. “Milk or lemon?”

“Milk and honey if you would” Tom’s eyes gleamed as he watched Hermione tap on her chair again. Honey and Milk floated over to Tom's cup and stirred himself in. Then the tea cup and saucer floated right into Tom’s waiting hands. 

“You are a marvelous witch Hermione Granger”

“Why thank you Tom Riddle” 

Tom frowned, “I never told you my name.”

“Nor did I. It was rather rude not to introduce yourself when you first opened the door by the way.” Hermione could see the look of perplexity hidden behind Tom’s aristocratic mask of indifference. He looked her up and down like a particularly challenging puzzle. Part of Hermione wanted to tell Tom how she knew of him. But it was so fun to watch him wonder so instead she sipped her tea and enjoyed the power game. 

“My apologies” Tom sipped his tea slowly, his eyes remained trained on the witch opposite him 

Hermione shot a smug smirk back before she schooled her features. 

The study door swung open as a sleepy looking Abraxas Malfoy shuffled in. He covered his hand as he yawned. Hermione caught a glimpse of the massive fangs Abraxas sported before the vampire reshealth them. 

Abraxas poured himself tea manual and grabbed a small plate of food. “So Ms. Granger, I understand you plan on re-writing the current legislation.”

Hermione blushed at the thought of such a lofty goal, “Well I want to make a difference”. 

“We of the Alley appreciate it.” Abraxas nodded. He sat himself down on the couch and flung his feet up onto Tom’s lap. Tom was about to flick them back off Abraxas cleared his throat and smiled at Tom as if to say ‘my coach, my rules.’ Recluncely, Tom settled his hands on Abraxas’ ankles. 

“So, Ms. Granger, what brings you here?” 

“I’m starting to work towards changing the search warrant process. I noticed that there are different standards for Witch/wizard search warrants and Creature search warrant. You have the highest number of annual search warrants against you. I thought you might have dealt with the ministry before and have some knowledge you could share with me.” 

Tom was impressed with the calm cool way Hermione pitched her purpose. Where a muggleborn got such confidence was beyond Tom. 

“I would certainly appreciate some revisions to the search warrant processes. It does get tiring to clean up after aurors every week.” 

Abraxas got up from his place at the couch and wandered over to the small library of books in the sitting room. “I have a few books…” Abraxas pulled out three slim books and handed them to Hermione. “Just a moment. I have a few more upstairs.” Abraxas handed Tom his tea and fluttered out of the room. 

“That’s strange” Hermione muttered. When Hermione looked up to watch Abraxas leave the room, she realized that the fire was out. It had been lit before. Most magical families leave their fires lit all the time in case they receive a fire call or someone wants to floo through. 

Tom tracked Hermione’s glance, “yes it is. That fireplace is self lighting. It shouldn’t ever go out.”

“Maybe the charms need updating.” 

“...maybe” Tom didn’t sound like he believed that at all “We should go up to the library and find Abraxas just in case.” Tom flicked his wrist and his wand sprang into his hand. He kept it half raised as he lead the way upstairs. 

Hermione felts silly pulling her wand out, but it seemed like a good precaution if only to defend herself against the mass murdering wizard currently leading her deeper into a vampire’s house. 

“Abraxas?” Tom called. The house was silent which might have been normal enough if it wasn’t for the fact that Abraxas was suppose to be looking through books. Certainly there would be some noise from his movements? 

“Abraxas? The fireplace is -” Tom came to an abrupt stop when they passed the study. The fire was out there too. “Fuck” He hissed quietly “Mctavish and his gang are back” Tom whispered to Hermione.

“Mctavish?”

“The head Auror of the Creature division”

Hermione got the opinion that this Mctavish person acted more like a mob boss and less like a government official. 

“What do we do?” Hermione asked. 

Tom floundered helpless in place. He took a step further towards the library but then paused. Hermione could only guess what was going on in Tom’s mind. 

“What will they do to Abraxas?” Hermione prompted. 

Tom didn’t have to answer. A blood curtailing scream came from above them. Tom looked horrified at the roof above.

Hermione didn’t think twice. She took the stairs two at a time, running as fast as she could towards the library. 

“Expelliarmus! Accio Abraxas” Hermione caught Mctavishes wand and stepped over the badly burnt Abraxas. She stood in front of his crumpled form protectively, Her wand stayed trained on the head Auror. “What. gentlemen, is the meaning of this?” 

Mctavish didn’t look the least bit fazed at having his wand ripped out of his hand or being caught by a witch. He sneered at Hermione, “We are searching the premises. You are not legally allowed to be here unless you are a resident.” Mctavish stepped forward, menacingly glaring Hermione down. 

“There is nothing even remotely legal about this search, sir. As was outlined in the 1874 Fisgard Laws. Searches of a premises where the primary home owner is a vampire must happen between twilight and dawn. As you can clear see, it’s the middle of the day.” Hermione indicated the open window for added effect. 

Mctavish looked at the fierce teenage witch with her wand in one hand and a law book clutched in the other. She looked mad enough to strike him, whether it was with her wand or the book remained to be seen. 

“You don’t get to play lawyer here, girly.”

Mactavish took another step toward so he towered over the witch. 

The tip of her wand pressed into his chest, “Do not ‘girly’ me you insipid old man, your malfeasance will not go uncontended.” 

“Good lord woman,” Tom gasped as he came into the room. 

“You see, this little wizard understands. You have no rights here. Even if we are hauled into court it’s the head auror against a trouble maker vampire, a mudblood and whatever thing that is.” Mctavish vaguely gestured to Tom. “Who do you think will win?”

“I’m willing to find out.” Hermione bit out. 

Mactavish took another look at the wild hair and feral glare of a witch crossed one too many times. She was a child really, but there was something about her that made Mctavish take half a step back. 

“The door, gentlemen, is that way” Hermione motioned to the door, “Allow me to see you out.”

Mctavish looked around the room. He had only brought two other aurors with him and both were frankly useless in a fight. The witch and the wizard were clearly powerful. Abraxas might not put up much of a fight, but the other two looked like they’d fight to the death. 

Not to mention the witch still had his wand. 

“Very well.” 

Hermione kept her wand raised as she saw the three aurors down the hall and out of the property. 

“My wand…” Mctavish prompted when he stepped into the unwashed brick side alley. 

“Can be collected at the ministry, Head Auror Mctavish.” The witch had the audacity to slam the door in his face.


	26. Megan

“How many heads of’ lettuce?” Boss asked Megan. 

Megan riffled through the massive pub cold box, “Only two, and both look a little sad”.

“Throw ‘em out then” Boss called back from the bar. Boss was carefully counting bottles and marking off what needed to be restocked for the weekly shopping trip. Business was booming again. Between Evans finally returning and the recent passing of a Creature friendly law, there had been a lot of celebrating. 

Megan came out of the kitchen with a list of meats scratched onto the blank bit of an old newspaper. “Here. Have you seen this?” Megan pointed at the article on the Minister of Magic stepping down and the ensuing two week rat race to elect the next person.”

Boss nodded, “The candidates ur in today’s paper”.

Megan dropped off the old paper at Boss’s elbow and wandered down the bar to where the new paper lay open. 

There were four candidates. Three of which were old, pureblood wizards who already misused their formidable power. 

The fourth was interesting. The wizard looked to be about 50. He claimed to be a half-blood who grew up in Britain but left decades ago for better opportunities. Unlike the other candidates, he had an impressive resume of political experience in several countries around the world. Not to mention, he was easy on the eyes with a charming smile and naturally charismatic air. 

“I know who I’m voting for,” Megan grinned. “Shit he is hot.”

“S’not how your suppose to vote,” Boss admonished lightly. 

Megan laughed, “Well it doesn’t really matter. Neither of us can actually vote anyways. Have we made a list of the fruits we need?”

Boss skimmed the various lists in front of him, “No, not yet. We might need more glasses too.” Boss lumbered over to the cupboard where the glasses were kept.

Megan grabbed a scrap of empty parchment and headed back into the kitchen.

It took another hour or so to finish taking inventory and re-write the lists based on what could be bought where. 

They split up at first, Megan went to buy various fruits and vegetables from the market in the side alley by Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary ad Boss went to Boggis, Bunce & Bean Liquor Emporium. 

They meet back at the pub before heading out together to the Artemis’s Butcher Shop which sat at the bisection of Knockturn and Diagon Alley and was open 24 hours a day so it could cater to all types.

By the time Boss and Megan made it to the shop, it was twilight. The shops of Diagon were all starting to shut down and the shops in Knockturn were just starting to get busy. 

Megan was just about to open the Artemis’s door when something across the road caught her attention. Four pearly pale figures were stalking around Diagon Alley. Megan search for what they might be hunting. Several shops down as a clumsy looking wizard overburden with parchments. 

“Now what do you suppose those four are up to?” Megan asked disapprovingly. 

Boss regarded the scene carefully. “Nothing good.”

“Now, normally I’d say just leave them to the aurors, but those fickle journalist might use the wizards death as proof that creatures can’t be trusted. It’d undo all the fine work Lobbyist Granger is doing.” 

Bosses nodded in agreement. “Best deal with it ourself then.” 

“How odd, dealing with Knockturn problems in Diagon.” Megan giggled. 

Boss marched right into Diagon. His footsteps echoed off the brick building and shock the glass paned windows. 

The wizard looked wide-eyed at Boss. The lad’s movements stopped and he froze in place. The four vampires grinned at their easy prey. The least restrained of the group lunged forward at the lad, but a hand the size of goblin’s door grabbed the vampire around the middle and tossed them back. 

“I’ll have none of that, thank you.” Boss stood between the three remaining vampires and the lad. 

“I’ll deal with them boss, you take the kid back home” Scales ripped out of Megan’s skin. Her face grew long, her back legs hunched down and her arms widened into leathery wings with small claws where her hands had once been.

Blue flames gathered around Megan’s muscle. She stalked towards the remaining vampires. They tried to split up, but Megan grabbed one vampire with her teeth and another with her tail. The third she pinned to the ground with her wing. 

“Is that? Is that a wyvern?” the lad stuttered. 

Boss picked the lad up as if her were a doll and cradled the wizard against his chest. “Yes, our Megan is a shapeshifting Wyvern.” His chest rumbled with pride. 

Boss’s footsteps echoed down the Alley way as he carried the lad off. 

Megan used the sound to muffle the terrified screeches of the vampires she torn apart. She had no intention of truly angering Abraxas, so she put the vampires torn up bodies in four distinguishable lumps in a side Alley of Knockturn. From Artemis’ she grabbed four pails of mixed blood and splashed it on the lumps. They would be healed by morning and hopefully get the message that prey in Diagon was off limits. 

If a vampire wanted to hunt, they did so in Knockturn Alley and even then, they were warned to choose their prey with caution. Many do not take kindly to being forcefully fed on. 

Twenty minutes or so after parting, Boss and Megan meet up in Artemis’s Butcher shop. They gathered what they needed and headed back to the pub. The other’s could manage the pub for a few hours without their help, but it was better not to dilly dally.

Neither of them would have thought any more on the matter had Abraxas not shown up at the pub near sunrise asking about the incident. 

Boss looked down at Abraxas from the other side of the bar, “They was hunting in Diagon, Abraxas.” 

The vampire eyes twitched, “After the Cornex incident just a few weeks ago?”

It was a rhetorical question so Boss felt no need to respond. He pour another whiskey and handed it to Evans to deliver to the table of ilvermorny students. 

“The boys name? Did you catch it?” 

“Theodore Nott.” Boss nodded to the wall of banned witches and wizards. 

Clustered in the Death Eaters section was a portrait of an older man, Alexander Nott. Abraxas remembered him from his parenting days. Alexander “Never Alex, you pansy little shit” Nott was a couple of years ahead of Lucius in school. He had graced the halls of Malfoy manor once before setting such a poor first impression as to never get invited back. 

“Was he staying at the Nott apartment above Magical Menagerie?” 

Boss nodded. Abraxas thanked him for his time and left the pub.

Megan had no idea what Abraxas said to the young pureblood head of house, but it ended with a public letter of thanks to “the owner of the White Wyvern Pub and their employee” in the next morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. 

“What the hell kind of Ragnarokian battle did you save him from?” Ragnok asked the next night when he settled himself at the table Megan was cleaning. 

Megan rolled her eyes, “It was just some leeches on the hunt in Diagon. We only stepped in because we didn’t want the progress Lobbyist Granger has made to be whipped out by some careless goons.” 

Ragnok snorted, “Couple of the hags near the bisection said you shifted.”

“Thats right” Megan tensed in defensively.

“In diagon alley? Girly you must be soft in the head. If auror had shown up, we’d be having another Stillwater scandal.”

“How is that pup doing?”

Ragnok shrugged, “I ain’t in her pack.”

“But you hear things” Megan prompted.

“She’s well enough. Bundles herself in Abraxas library reading with Lobbyist Granger most days from what I hear.”

“Well I’m glad she is at least getting out. Odd though, a werewolf finding sanctuary at a vampire's house with a witch.”

“Times are strange. In my 50+ years in the Alley, I’ve never seen this much cooperation.”

They both looked over at Evans who was chatting amicably with a table of Banshees. “I wouldn't say its entire Evans doing”.

“I would,” Ragnok snorted. “Evans restores your faith in humanity.” 

Megan smiled. Ragnok was probably right about that, “Hey Evans, come over here and take your 15.”

“Have you eaten?” The lad blushed and stammered some reply about not being hungry. Megan stopped listening after the no and went to grab something from Cook. While she was there she grabbed a small plate of deep fried Wendigo Fingers for Ragnok. 

“You’re a doll.” Ragnok accepted the plate and moved over, patting the seat for Megan to sit with them. 

Evans took the plate of food Megan handed him and placed it between the two of them, “You should eat too.” 

“Whatcha doing after work, Evans?” Megan asked.

The boy looked panicked for a minute. 

“Up to something then?” Ragnok leaned in conspiratorially.

Evans rubbed his palms on his legs nervously, “Well actually, I cleaned up Markus Scarrs tattoo parlour last summer and he promised me a tattoo as part of my payment. I’m going over tonight to get one done”.

Megan’s whole face light up, “Which design?”

Evans pulled out a scrap of parchment from his pant’s pocket and showed it to Megan and Ragnok. “My godfather helped draw it.” 

“They’re runes” Megan pointed out helpfully, as if Ragnok and Evans might not know.

“Is that even possible,” Ragnok twisted the parchment this way and that so he could read the runes. 

Evans nodded, ‘We tried with regular ink and it worked.”

“What does it do?” Megan had almost no exposure to Runes. There were protective sequences on the doors and windows but those were the only Runes Megan had ever seen and she paid them no mind. 

Evans took the parchment back from Ragnok and laid it out on the table. “The sequence will go on my shoulder blades. When I want, I can pour magic into the runes, starting at the center and working out.’ Evans traced the pattern his magic would flow through, “and the runes will make these epic wings. When my godfather and I tried it, I could fly for twenty minutes or so. I’m hoping with practice I can fly longer.” 

Megans whole body light up with excitement. “Can I come with you? After, you and I can go flying together!” 

Evans had heard the gossip about Megan but he never expected her to shift in front of him. From what he knew it was a fairly personal thing and incredibly dangerous to do in populated areas. 

“Twice in one weak, girly? You got cobwebs up there I swear.” 

Megan waved Ragnok off, “It’s fine. We can floo over to Hogsmeade and go flying over the Forbine Forest.” 

“I don’t think I can get in there,” Evans pointed out, “The wards of Hogwarts don’t let students in during the summer.”

Megan deflated a bit. 

“You could floo over to Portree in Scotland- Why am I giving you suggestions? Never mind. Portree is surrounded by woods and right on the ocean. There’s lots of places to fly” Ragnok downed the last of his whiskey, “Not that I think you should be flying around at all, girly but if you're going to do it anyways best make it away from the city. Portree is a lovely Magical community.” 

“I’ve never been to Portree,” Evans admitted.

“Never? Well then we have to go. Portree is just lovely this time of year. The salty night air will wash all your worries away.”

“She means your skin lad, the salty air will rub you raw.” Megan swatted at Ragnok but she didn’t correct him either. 

Evans packed up the dirt dishes and Megan wiped the table down again before they both got back to work. Ragnok got one last drink from the bar then staggered his way back home. The last few hours were steady but not crazy. Mostly stranger came in to congratulate Boss on his positive article in the Daily Profit. 

As business wound down, the waitress with sashaying hips tidied up the tables and found someone to go home with. Cook scrubbed the kitchen down took a night cap and bid them all good night. Boss finished up with the cash register and Evans and Megan gave the place a final mop and polish. 

Boss locked the door behind them and walked Megan and Evans across the street to Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos. He gave them both an affectionate pat on the shoulder and a ‘good work tonight’ before hobbling off. 

“Oh good, you’re here” Markus arched his back like a cat stretching after a long nap in the sun, “I looked over your design. It should be fun to do.” 

Evans looked around the shop a bit uneasily. It was clear to Megan that this was Evans first time in tattoo parlour as a customer. He fiddled with the end of his shirt uncertainly. Clearly, he knew it had to come off but it seemed rude to just start stripping down.

Markus had no such reservation. He slung an arm around Evans shoulder and lead him to the table where they would be work. As they walk, Markus flicked open Evans shirt and peeled it off his back. 

“Just lie down their” Markus instructed. 

Markus was unfazed, but Megan’s breath got lodged in her throat. 

Evans’ back looked like a hill side carved open by rivers. Huge gashes dug an inch deep in some places. In some places the scar tissue rose up like a line of mountains.

“The scars might make it a little more challenging but it should still work just fine.” Markus stretched and squished various places on Evans back. Humming as it mentally took note of how to adjust the tattoo design. “D’you get run over by a herd of unicorns?” 

“Something like that.”

“Well everyone has a sob story I suppose.”

Megan thought Markus was too dismissive. Megan had heard hundreds of reasons people fled to Knockturn Alley and very few involved a beating that bad. She kept quiet about it though. Evans would talk about it if and when he was ready. 

In the meantime, Megan got to watch the fascinating work of master tattoo artist Markus Scarrs as he glided his wand around Evan’s shoulder blades. 

When they were done, Evans pulled his shirt and they flooded right from Markus’ shop over to a pub in Portree. The sleepy little hamlet was already deep in slumber. The pub owner, a long time friend of Megan, was up with her husband having a nightcap. The pub was closed but the owners waved them through and promised to be up to let them back in when they were done flying. 

Megan lead the way down the quiet streets to the dock yard. Evans sheds his shirt. Megan watched as Evan’s black tattoo lit up red and began to spit long lava like strings of magic as huge pheonix style wings sprouted from the boys back. When they were fully stretched. Evans turned to watch Megan. She kicked off her shoes and leaned into the familiar feeling of scales growing out of her skin.

Once Megan was in her Wyvern form, she stretched her wings out as far as they could go and pushed off the dock into the night air. Evans was close behind. Their wings beat in rhythm as they glided along with the ocean waves up and down the coast.


	27. Evans' Apartment

Evans cracked open one eye when he heard his apartment door open. Begrudgingly, Evans slipped his wand out from under his pillow and trained it on the open bedroom door. 

A familiar face grinned back at him, “wada want?” Evans tossed his wand onto his bedside table and rolled over to bury his head in his pillows.

“Just came by for a little breakie.”

‘M’too tired” Evans voice was muffled by the pillow but Marcus still had a fairly good idea what was said. 

“Dobby is making breakfast, Mister Harry Potter sir.” 

Evans flopped over and sat bolt upright. Standing on the end of his bed was no other than Dobby the house elf dressed in a fine cotton uniform.

Evans rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep, but it was not going to happen now. 

Marcus was grinning merrily at Dobby, which seems rather suspicious give that Marcus hated most creatures out of principal. 

Dobby hopped off the bed and lead the way to the kitchen. Marcus grabbed a pair of sweatpants from off the chair in Evans room and flung them at Evans. 

“Thanks” 

The two made their way out to the kitchen table. Marcus sat down but Evans wandered into the kitchen and began flicking various pots and pans into action. This wasn’t the first time Dobby had shown up at Evans apartment to cook. 

Right from the get go, Evans had to set vary firm boundaries. Dobby could teach him to cook and they could cook together but Dobby wasn’t to do all the work. He was a guest when he came over, just like anyone else. 

When the food was done, Evans and Dobby filled the kitchen table and each took a seat. 

“How’s the summer clean of Hogwarts going?” Evans asked Dobby.

“Mister Headmaster Dumbledore is working the house elves very hard but we is enjoying it very much. We is finishing the castle this week so that the Professors can update the wards.”

“Doesn’t that mean you're kicked out of the castle until they’re done?” Marcus stuffed a croissant roll in his mouth. Evans shot him a disgusted look but didn’t say anything on the matter. 

Dobby pulled on his exceptionally long ears, “Yes we is all having to leave until September.” 

“You can stay with me.” Evans offered without really thinking about it. With Marcus staying more and more frequently on the couch and Hermione crashing regularly on the Ottoman there wasn’t often much room for another person. 

Evans looked around the small apartment. The pantry was a walk in and probably big enough for Dobby. He winced at the thought of making anyone sleep in a closet, but he wasn’t sure where else he’d fit the loyal house elf. 

“Oh Minster Harry Potter is so kind!” Dobby squeaked, “But Dobby is not liking being a guest all the time. Dobby is wanting to work, sir.”

“The pub is a bit understaffed, Boss could probably hire you for the month.” Evans pointed out. Cook was still sick with the Warlock Flu and business had really picked up. Boss had talked about hiring someone for the summer, but never seemed to have the time to go through the process. 

Dobby bounced in his seat with jubilation, “Oh Mister Harry Potter is such a good wizard.”

“Thanks Dobby and it’s James Evans here.”

Dobby looked a little confused but he accepted the name change easily enough. 

“Are you staying for the afternoon?” Evans asked Marcus, but the Slytherin graduate shook his head.

“I’ve got to work. I mostly came by to drop those off,” He thumbed to the three rolls of parchment sitting on the bookshelf where all of Hermione’s legal work sat. “Lobbyist Granger wanted the files from the recent Auror layoff cases.”

Evans nodded, “She doesn’t seem all that trusting of the new Minister of Magic.”

“I thought she would have loved him like every other witch. He’s a hot, young, half-blood with years of exotic experiences. Isn’t that everything she’s ever dreamed of?” 

“I have no idea what Hermione dream of” Evans blushed, “but I don’t think he’s it. She thinks the Auror dismissal were a cover.” 

“Cover for what?” 

“I have no idea. Come spend your lunch break here and I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.” 

Marcus grinned, “I just might take you up on that.” 

The joy that Marcus and Hermione got from debating laws and case files was entirely beyond Evans. He was happy that his friends got along though and the discussion seemed to help Hermione build strong cases when she was lobbying for change. 

After eating, Marcus cleaned up the kitchen before heading to work. Dobby helped Evans clean out the pantry and set up a makeshift bedroom. 

Evans apologizes profusely for the living conditions but Dobby tugged at his ears and said the pantry was the biggest bedroom he’d ever had. It fit a small makeshift bed, a stool and a side table in it. Plus the pantry came with lots of shelf storage. Once they were done, Dobby went back to Hogwarts to finish his work. 

Evans pulled out his potion making supplies and his most current list of requests. By the time mid day rolled around. There were two dozen cauldrons simmering on the kitchen table and chairs. Evans had already bottled several batches and packed them for his customers. 

While the remaining potions brewed, Evans cleaned up the kitchen and made a buffet lunch which he spread out on the kitchen counter. Just as Evans was putting on tea, his apartment door opened and in walked Hermione, Ron, Charlie and Oliver Wood. 

“Hey,” Evans waved casually to Hermione and Ron. To Charlie and Oliver he asked, “Are you staying for lunch?”

“Na, thanks though. Mom just wanted us to make sure these two little ones made it in one piece.” Ron scowled at his older brother. Charlie pulled from under his cloak a large cardboard box, “Mom made brownies and told me to bring them.”

Evans open the box to find that half were already gone, “Yeah sorry about that. We stopped by the Twin’s new shop to give them a hand stocking shelves and they helped themselves.”

“So did we,” Oliver piped up. He slung an arm around Charlie, “You’re mom is the world’s best cook. I wasn’t going to give up a Molly Weasley brownie just to be polite.”   
Charlie grinned, “True enough. Which reminds me Harry-”

“Evans” 

“Right, which reminds me Evans. Mom asked if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow. She’s got out her grandmother’s recipe book and was thinking you might want to make some traditional foods with her. Bill and Fleur, Remus and Tonks, Sirius and Dumbledore will all be there. Honestly she could use a hand in the kitchen and all of us are terrible cooks.”

“Fred’s not bad,” Oliver pointed out.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed, “ but he’s busy with the shop.” 

“Sure, Charlie, I’d love to come. Thank Molly for the invite. I can come over at 2 if that work?”

“I’ll let her know. See ya fam!” Charlie and Oliver headed back out Evans’ apartment, Oliver’s arm still slung over Charlie’s shoulder. 

“Are they together?” Hermione asked.

“Who?” Ron took a seat on the Ottoman beside Hermione who was already leafing through the documents Marcus left her. 

“Charlie and Oliver.”

“Together how?”

“Like dating.”

Ron looked wide eyed over at Evans who was pouring tea for the three of them. “I don’t know. What makes you think they are?” 

Hermione just hummed. 

Evans passed Ron his tea and placed Hermione’s on a coaster at her elbow “Well they are pretty handsy with each other.” Harry pointed out.

Ron shrugged, “Charlie is always handsy.” 

“You’ve never asked?” Harry couldn’t imaging asking Dudley about anything even remotely related to dating but Ron actually seemed to get along with his siblings. 

“Not the sort of thing a bloke asks his brother.”

“Can I?” Evans asked. 

Ron grinned, “Sure why not. Ask them tomorrow at the dinner table.”

“I think I’ll be a bit more subtle than that.” 

“Well it’s up to you mate. Takes some of the fun away though.” 

Just then the door swung open again and Marcus sauntered in. He grabbed a plate of food, poured himself some tea and took a seat right beside Hermione. “How’s my favorite firecracker today?”

Hermione didn’t respond. She flicked her wand out and sent Marcus crashing to the floor with a string hex. With a wave of her wand she kept his tea and food floating in the air.

“Sit over here and leave her alone” Harry motioned to the space beside him on the couch. 

“So, did you read the documents? It seems fishy.” Marcus stuffed a tentacle tarte into his mouth.

Hermione looked up, “Good because it is. Not a single person who got dismissed actually had a legitimate claim against them. The worst Auror offenders, the ones with 5 or more Creature deaths attributed to them, are still in the force.”

Ron and Evans shared a shocked glance, “This is bad isn’t it?”

Evans slumped back, “Yeah, I think it is.”

“Guess this derails your campaign a little then?” Marcus asked Hermione. 

She passed over pile of documents and the two began replanning her campaign.

Ron moved over so her was beside Evans. “What does this mean exactly?”

“It means whoever this new Minister of Magic is, they aren’t really on our side.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with You-Know-who?”

Harry picked up the recent Daily Prophet. The new minister was smiling widely at the press while he explained some of his current plans. 

“Maybe. Voldemort's been really quiet this year. Besides attacking your dad at Christmas, we haven’t heard anything from his for months. He’s back. We know he’s back, but we don’t know what he’s up to.”

“Dumbledore hasn’t said anything to you?”

Evans scowled. He was still mad at Dumbledore for leaving him with his Aunt and Uncle. Maybe he was being unfair, but Evans wished that Dumbledore had at least checked in once in awhile. Surely if he had seen what was happening he wouldn’t have left Evans there. 

“I’ll take that as a no.”

A knock came from the front door. 

Everyone paused and looked at it in shock. The knock came again. 

“People actually knock when they come over?” Ron asked surprised. 

“No,” Evans pulled his wand out, “Even my downstairs neighbor just walks in.” 

With his wand half raised, Evans opened his door to find Tom Bloody Riddle standing on his door step with a Blood Orange Salad tucked under one arm. 

“Abraxas sent me.” Tom explained. He banished a newspaper in Evans face, “We have a problem.” 

Stunned, Evans reflexively took a step back when Tom moved forward into the apartment. He put the salad down and made himself a plate of food and poured himself a cup of tea before settling himself on the floor beside Hermione. 

“What the actual fuck” Ron stood, mouth agape with his wand banished at Tom. 

Hermione reached forward and snatched the wand out of Ron’s hands. “I told Abraxas to send him.”

“What am I, an owl.” Tom grumbled though there wasn’t much feeling behind it. 

“This is you isn’t it?” Hermione took the paper from Tom and pointed at the new Minister of Magic. 

“Firecracker, that guys easily in his 50’s” Marcus pointed out. 

Hermione ignored him. 

Tom sighed. He bit into a tentacle tarte and chawed it slowly while he collected his thought. “He is a version of me.”

‘So that is Voldemort then?” Harry asked, pointing the the newspaper image. “He’s got his looks back?” 

Tom put his plate down and spread his hands on his lap, “Voldemort came to Abraxas’ several weeks ago trying to recruit me. It was just after I got revived-”

“Because you’re a horcrux?” Ron clarified dumbfounded. 

“Horcrux?” Marcus looked between the group in bewilderment. 

Hermione shushed him. 

“Was? I’m not sure I still am one. I think I’m just a person now. Anyways, Voldemort wanted me to join him because, you know we are in some ways the same person. But I’d seen what he did to Abraxas and Orion. As far as I am concern, Voldemort fuck up-”

“Well fuck me sideways and call me Morgana,” Ron shock his head in wonder. 

Hermione shushed him.

“Voldemort collected the other soul pieces, except yours” Tom motioned to Harry.

“What now?” Marcus looked at Harry for an explanation.

Hermione cut in and shushed him. 

“Using some dark spell he stole from Abraxas’ library, he put our other soul pieces back together hence the new look.”

“So now there are two Voldemort's?” Ron asked Tom. 

“No, there is half of my soul which is dead, thanks by the way Potter.”

“You’re welcome” Evans grinned cheekily. 

“A quarter or so, which is me, Tom, and a quarter or so which is the new Minister of Magic”

“The minister of magic is Voldemort” Marcus clarified. 

“Yes, precisely.” Tom nodded curtly. “So, as you see, we have a problem.”

“That’s an understatement of the century” Ron flopped back into the Ottoman. “We have the unholy trinity, Dead-Tom, Alive-Tom, and Voldemort.” 

“What’s Voldemort's plan?” Hermione asked Tom. 

“Take over Magical Europe through power and destruction, I imagine. I was my original plan.”

“So what do we do now?” Ron asked. Everyone looked to Evans. 

He got up and walked over to his kitchen table. Evans took the last of the potions off their heat and bottled them. He packed up all of the deliveries he had to make and pulled his outer cloak around his shoulders. The group remained fixed on him. 

“Right now, I’m going to deliver these potions and then head to work at the pub. Marcus, you have to get back to work. Ron, Tom and Hermione you can keep working on the campaign for now.”

Evans opened his front door, “Tomorrow we have dinner at the Weasley house, but maybe after we can go to Abraxas and talk about what to do next.” 

The group nodded and got to work. Evans closed his apartment door and leaned against it. He felt like he was drowning. He just wanted to get away from the Dursleys, not fight Voldemort again. Maybe he’s send that letter off to Ilvernmory after all. 

The next day, Harry helped Dobby settle into the apartment. He tried to settle himself down by reading some of the legal jargon Hermione was working on, but it just made him feel restless. So instead, Evans took off his shirt, opened his window and went flying. 

Ducking around shop corners, Evans hid himself in the smog of Knockturn Alley. He was hardly visitable from the streets below. By the time Evans got back, his face was numb from the wind and he was covered in sweet. He took a quick shower and headed over to the Weasley house to learn from Molly. 

She hugged him tight as soon as he tumbled out of their floo. She brushed him off and shuttled him into the kitchen. Harry relaxed into Molly’s natural mothering affection and tried not to think about Tom Riddle and Voldemort.

But at dinner the next night, everyone was talking about the mass exodus of Aurors. Nearly half of the current force had either been let go or had quit. 

The next day, word got out that the Minister of Magic had created an ‘emergency task force’ to combat ‘increasing tensions’. The task force was made entirely out of Death Eaters from Azkaban. For reasons Evans would never understand, the general public applauded the new ministers ingenuity. 

Evans wrote one letter to Malvin asking if he could visit for the rest of the summer and another to the headmaster of Ilvernmory asking to transfer in September. Evans couldn’t quite bring himself to send them though. He put both envelopes under his bed for safe keeping. At night, when Evans couldn’t sleep because of the heat, Marcus’ snoring or his own stress Evans took out the letters and reread them.


	28. Ron Weasley

“What did they think the task force was for?” Ron raged at Hermione’s copy of the Daily Prophet. The front page article of the day was another disapproving article about how the Minister of Magic’s person task force had killed innocent witches and wizards in their efforts to crack down on crime.

Hermione pulled her hair out of the way so Ron could better massage her shoulders, “I imagine they thought the task force would only work in Knockturn. A lot of people aren’t happy with the new rights Creatures have gained. Voldemort is using that anger and distrust to pass whatever he pleases.” 

Ron concentrated on gently kneeling out the stone like knots in Hermione’s shoulders. 

“He isn’t putting much resistance against the Creature friendly bills I’ve been proposing but I think that’s because he is using the outrage they cause to pass his own agenda.” 

“You’re not going to stop are you?” Ron slipped his hands under Hermione’s shirt to better work her muscles. 

She melted a little into him. “No” She hummed. Her head lolled forward a bit. “I just need to be careful. Dinner at your house was nice, by the way. I said thank you to your parents but I don’t think I said it to you. I’m glad you invited me.” 

Ron grabbed more lotion and started working it into Hermione’s shoulders. “I’m glad you came.” 

“I can’t believe Charlie and Oliver are really a couple” Ron blurted out.

He could feel Hermione grinning. 

“I’m happy for him. Oliver is wicked good at Quidditch. He’s going pro this year, only he’s playing for the Romanian team.” 

“That’s a good compromise.” Hermione seemed to admire the wild, adventuring form of domesticity that Oliver and Charlie shared. 

Ron wondered idly what kind of relationship Hermione would want. Marcus Flint seemed to always be flirting with Hermione these days and it was starting to really bother Ron. 

He realized that Hermione rebuffed Marcus constantly, but it bothered him that Marcus was so persistent. Maybe one day she’d say yes and they’d become a power couple and rule all of Britain.

An image of Hermione and Marcus on the front cover of the Daily Profit, smiling for the press came to mind. 

“Ow. Ron?” Hermione flinched away. 

Ron relaxed his grip and went back to massaging Hermione’s shoulder. 

“Are you ok?” Hermione asked.

“Do you wanna go out Hermione. Like not out, but like Out. Like a date. Tonight maybe?” 

Hermione twisted around so she could face Ron. Her hair was disheveled and her shirt was unbuttoned enough for Ron to catch a glimpse of her ruby red bra. 

‘She is so out of my league’ a voice whispered in the back of Ron’s mind. 

“Where is this coming from?” Hermione was frowning at him. Ron tried to think of something to say but his traitorous mind had gone blank. 

She leaned into his leg as if to prompt a reply. Reflexively, Ron reached out and ran his hand through her hair. 

Her frown morphed into a grin. “We'll never mind that then. Yes, I’d love to go on a date. I have to be at the Ministry in half an hour but maybe we could do dinner in Diagon after?” 

“Yeah,” Ron grinned goofily. He tried to remain calm and cool like Harry and Tom always seemed to do, but his happiness just seemed to bubble out on its own accord. “I can meet you at The Leaky Cauldron at 6.” 

Hermione pulled herself off the ground where she had been settled between Ron’s legs. She leant down and kissed him. Ron kissed back as best he could. He wasn’t sure how well he was doing but it felt bloody good. 

When Hermione pulled back, her eyes looked wild. She bit at her lip and looked over at the clock behind her. She let out a disappointed moan, “I really do have to go.”

“We’ll have dinner together though.” Ron reminded her, leaning in for another kiss. Hermione grinned and leant into Ron briefly. 

“Yes, 6 at Leaky.” Hermione rebuttoned her shirt, slipped on her heels, and grabbed her slim brief case of files. With a burst of pure magic she floated her pastel colour cloak the couch arm and dropped it over her shoulders. “See you Ron!” 

“Bye Hermione” Ron called back as Harry’s apartment door closed behind her. 

Ron stretched his arms above his head and grinned like the chesire cat. He felt like he was floating on a cloud. 

“Congrats Ron,” Harry poked his head out of his bedroom. He scratched the hair on his chest, “just don’t do anything crazy on that coach tonight.” Harry frown deepened, “If you do use the Ottoman, clean it after.”

Ron threw a pillow at his best friend, “it’s just dinner.” 

Harry caught the pillow and tossed it back. 

“Well, the apartments yours if you two want it. I’ll be at the pub ‘till close and then I’m going to Abraxas. Dobby is working at the pub tonight too, then he’s going over to help Kreacher clean up the basement at Sirius’ house. Marcus is at his own place tonight because Jason Samuels is back in town and staying with him. Hermione is crashing here anyways since she has another meeting at the Ministry tomorrow. You can stay over if you want.” 

“Mom would throw a fit.” 

Evans hopped into a pair of sweatpants and clawed on a graphic shirt on. 

Ron watched the three howling werewolves stalk around Evans’ shirt. Evans grinned, “They turn into people in the sun light. Folos got it for me.” 

“I don’t have anything to wear tonight,” Ron grabbed their cloaks and held the front door open for Evans. 

Evans grabbed his carving knifes and rune sets off the kitchen table and followed Ron out. He locked his door out of habit but he didn’t actually think it made any difference. 

“Grab one of my dress robes. There’s a red and brown one hanging on the back of my door. Just put it on the laundry pile when you’re done.” 

Ron considered it. He looked over his current shabby attire and remembered the beautiful power suit Hermione had left in. “Yeah, if you don’t mind Harry I think I’ll borrow that robe. So what are we doing exactly?” 

“We’re setting up an illegal magic barrier.” Evans said it was such causal confidence that Ron took a moment to process what was said. 

“Wait,” Ron grabbed Harry’s sleeve and brought him to a halt, “We’re doing what now?”

Evans just grinned. 

Ron let his sleeve go, threw his hands in the air, and followed Evans down the back alley. 

They walked to the outer edge of Knockturn alley. Then Evans pulled out a bit of scrap wood, carves a few runes into it and tucked it under a garbage can. They walked about a block then Evans carved another piece of wood and hid it as well. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon walking around and hiding runes. When they had done the perimeter of Knockturn Alley. Evans pulled pre-carved run wood chunks and handed some to Ron, “These can go anywhere in Knockturn. They just boost the wall.” Ron helped Evans hide the wood in various back alleys. They even went into some stores and asked store owners to hide the carvings for them. 

“These’ll keep You-Know-Who and his death eaters out?” Ron flipped over one of the pieces of wood. It looked very plain to him but he trusted Evans to know what he was talking about. Ron threw the wood chunk up onto a ledge over a window several stories up. 

“They’ll help.” 

They worked right until 5:30. Ron walked with Harry to the White Wyvern. Harry started his shift at work and Ron walked over to Diagon Alley to grab a table at the Leaky Cauldron. He grabbed a newspaper at the door and a booth near the back. 

Hermione didn’t show up until closer to 7. 

“Sorry Ron, I got caught up talking to Brunhilde Stokke from the Wizengamot.” Hermione gave Ron a quick kiss on the check and settled down across from him. For a brief moment, Ron felt like they’d been dating for years. “How was your day?”

Ron smiled contently, “Harry and I did some work around Knockturn for the day.”

“Did he get enough sleep? He got in so late last night.” Hermione asked.

She pulled the menu in front of her and raked over it. Her gaze darted here and there before she finally gave up and shoved the menu to Ron. “I’ve been reading documents all day. I’m too tired to read through that.” 

“Get the chicken and mash.” Ron suggested. 

Hermione smiled and nodded. 

“How was your day?” Ron moved the menus to the edge of the table. 

The waitress came and got their order before Hermione could answer. But Ron prompted her again once the waitress had left. 

Hermione was a bubble of stress from work. Ron grinned as he listened to her talk, he poked fun at the other Wizengamot members to get her to laugh. By the time dessert came around, Hermione had relaxed right back to her normal type A level of high strung. 

After dinner, Ron walked Hermione back to Harry’s apartment. He hadn’t meant to stay, it happened on its own accord. 

They woke in the morning to Dobby making breakfast in the kitchen. 

“Morning Dobby,” Hermione smiled at the house elf as he confidently dashed around the kitchen. 

Ron pulled Hermione closer to himself and tried to bury his head under her curly hair and away from the morning sun. 

“Good morning Hermione and Ron. I is making enough breakfast for everyone.”

“Let me set the table then,” Hermione pulled herself off the ottoman and grabbed her discarded cloak from off the floor. She wrapped it around herself and padded over to the table to set out the dishes manually. “How was work at the pub last night?” 

Ron pulled himself up and began tidying up the living room.

“It’s good but very busy. Many witches and wizards come from Diagon Alley to stay in Knockturn now.”

“Oh?” Hermione looked over to Dobby in surprise. 

Dobby floated breakfast to the table just as the front door opened. Tom and Harry both stumbled in. Tom was clutching his chest and Harry was cradling his left arm. 

“What on earth?” Ron asked. 

Hermione pulled her wand out and began healing Harry’s arm. 

Dobby set two new places at the table. “The Azkaban Aurors were in Diagon Alley last night.” 

“Oh Harry, what happened?”

“Evans.” Harry responded automatically, “Bellatrix Lestrange and two other nut jobs were attacking anyone who tried to enter or leave Knockturn Alley at the bisection to Diagon.” Harry winced as his bones realigned themselves. “Thanks.”

Hermione hesitated for only a second before forcing Tom to let go of his chest long enough for her to run her wand over the nasty gash. 

“We were on the way back here when we say Belle attacking some witch. Potter-”

“Evans.”

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone. He flung himself at Belle and her two lackeys.” Tom glared at Evans disapprovingly, “nearly got us both killed.”

“You could have kept walking” Harry hissed as he sat down across Ron. “How was your night?” 

“Good.” Ron said a bit too quickly. He could feel his face going red. 

Harry grinned. 

“For you,” Tom pulled a Daily Prophet from his back pocket and handed it to Hermione. He settled himself beside Evans and started grabbing food. 

“When did you have time to grab a newspaper?” Evans asked Tom.

Tom gave a one shoulder shrug, “priorities. The bank is restricting hours and access.” Tom tapped the front page of the paper Hermione was reading. 

Ron leant over Hermione’s to read the article with her. Sure enough, Gringotts made an announcement about their safety concerns.

“I’m surprised Ragnok didn’t say anything.” Harry frowned. 

Hermione looked up from the paper, “They just made the announcement today. They cite the attacks yesterday by aurors against several customers just outside gringotts. In broad daylight none less.”

“Can’t they impeach him?” Tom frowned. 

Hermione grinned, “That’s what I asked, but no. It’s nearly impossible to get rid of an elected official.” 

“Hey Dobby,” Ron turned to the house elf at the head of the table, “You said that a lot of people were in Knockturn Alley. How’d they get in if the Azkaban Aurors were guarding the entrance?”

Dobby pulled on his ears, “The witches and wizards are coming in the afternoon after the Aurors are attacking Gringotts customers. Many witches and wizards are coming to Knockturn so them Aurors are getting mad. At night, they stand at the entrance of Knockturn and send people away.”

“Why didn’t they come into Knockturn?” Ron asked. 

“Well for one, the Farkas pack would have killed them in the daytime and Abraxas’ coven would have got them at night.” Tom grinned. “Plus Evans border makes it nearly impossible with someone with a dark mark to get into the Alley. They’d have to create a whole new strike team.” 

“So we’re safe in here?” Ron asked. 

Harry shoved food onto his plate, “Thank for breakfast Dobby. Yeah, we’re safe here”.

The others all chorused their thanks to Dobby. Talk of the attacks died down and changed over to updates on the various members of the Weasley family and the latest Quidditch match. 

After breakfast, Dobby headed over to the pub to help open. Hermione went to her meeting at the ministry and Tom headed back to Abraxas’ house. 

Once the apartment was cleaned, Harry sent a letter off the he and Ron went back out to spread more rune marked wood pieced. 

“What was the letter about?” Ron asked as they wandered down the garbage Alley. 

Harry grinned, “It was a deal for Dumbles.”

Ron looked up curiously. 

“I got Tom to tell me how he cursed the DADA position. I told Dumbledore I’d break the curse if he reinstated Remus, opened Hogwarts to Creatures and added more funding for struggling students.” 

Ron blinked in surprise. He hadn’t realized Harry had so much slytherin in him.  
“Do you think he’s go for it?” Ron stepped around a Hag and put a bit of wood onto of her makeshift shelter.

The two carried on towards the Goblin district of Knockturn. 

“I hope so. I know Remus really loved teaching.”

“He was bloody good at it too. Merlin’s left butt cheek, he has the best DADA professor we had for years. Plus he stood up to Snape. You should try and get Dumbles to fire Snape.”

“That’d be the day.” Evans snorted. 

“Why does he even work as a professor? He clearly hates the job.” 

Harry shrugged, “Gotta pay the bills somehow I guess.” 

Ron snorted. “Dad’s never been like that. He loves working with the Muggle artifact division. Every couple of years he get offered a promotion. I think mom always hopes a little that he’ll take it but his heart is with Muggle artifacts.”

“I’d be nice to have something like that,” Evans said wistfully, “to have something you know you love doing.”

“I know I want to be an Auror.” Ron waved off Harry’s incredulous look, “A proper Auror not the shady shits who stalk around here making life miserable for everyone.” 

Someone on a broom dashed passed them. It was a street rat chaser. Close behind was an Ilvermorny chaser. 

“I love flying. Maybe I’ll go pro with Quidditch.” 

Ron grinned, “You are bloody brilliant on a broom H- Evans.”

“Thanks, but I’m not sure that’s really where my passion is.”

Ron waved him off, “We still have another two years of school left plus you don’t have to make any grand decisions. Maybe play Quidditch for a couple years and then try something different. Maybe just travel for a bit. That’s what Bill did. He traveled all over Europe before accidently getting a job with Gringotts in Egypt.”

A small Burrowing Owl swooped down and dropped a letter on Evans’ head. 

Ron reached up and plucked it off.   
“That’s Remus’ owl.” Harry watched the flighty owl dodge around the quidditch match and head back towards the Farkas apartment buildings. 

Ron passed over the letter but stuck close enough to read over Harry’s shoulder. 

“I’m not sure if he’s mad at you or grateful” Ron laughed. 

Harry shrugged. “Well he has his job back. Rose, Liam and Lisa will be joining us at Hogwarts. I wonder if Ragnarok's nephew is coming too then.”

“Does Abraxas have any young vampires?”

Harry mentally ran through Abraxas’ coven. A slow grin spread over his face, “there are two actually.”

“September’s going to be great!” Ron grinned.


	29. Tom Riddle

“Minister, the Longbottom report is complete” 

Voldemort had no idea which useless Death Eater was taking up space in his office and he didn’t care much to ask. He waved them out the door. Voldemort leafed through the docter report on the Longbottom’s involvement with the increase in drug usage in Diagon Alley. 

Of course Longbottom Nurseries only grew three Ministry controlled plants. They had exceptional security and closely monitored all sales. They were entirely on the up and up legally and morally. However, Voldemort had an agenda and Augusta Longbottom was continuously blocking it. 

He needed her out of the way. Preferably her son would go too but it wasn’t a priority currently. 

Voldemort rolled up his left sleeve and pressed his wand into the dark mark. He instructed Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan to go ‘search’ the Longbottom residence and deal with Augusta.

Voldemort tossed the Longbottom file to the side and went back to working on his current plans for the annoying Granger chit. 

…

Tom sat across from Harry, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt while Abraxas finished warding the room. 

“So, boys, we will all enter Harry’s mind. Then Harry will tour us through some of his memories. Today we are going to try and deal with some of the emotions around your dark memory, Evans. Tom you are going to work on building empathy. Remember the only way to get your soul back from Evans is to regret what you did to his mother.”

Tom nodded as if he understood but he wasn’t sure that was true. 

Tom had accidently killed Myrtle and intentionally killed his father, but he’d never touched Evans’ mother. That was Voldemort. 

The more that time passed the less Tom saw himself in Voldemort. Tom wasn’t sure he could feel regret for a crime he did not consider his own. 

Hell, Tom hadn’t been able to feel regret for the crimes that were actually his. 

He’d just have to try. 

Abraxas lifted his wand and cast a complicated spell around them. Tom closed his eyes and felt his mind wandering. Slowly the whiteness faded into a crisp image of the outside of the White Wyvern. Evans stood in his work uniform at the door. 

“Come on in,” He motioned for Abraxas and Tom to enter. 

At first Tom thought he was actually in the White Wyvern but then a picture of Ron, Evans and Hermione caught his eye by the door. 

“Let’s start with your memory Evans.” Abraxas prompted. 

Evans remained mute but nodded stiffly. He lead the group to the cellar of the pub. When he opened the back door which would normally hold the nicer wines, there was a wall of blackness. 

Evans stepped in first.

Tom followed closely behind.

The walls of the White Wyvern fell away into a different basement. This one was not as well kept. It was several degrees colder and smelt strongly like the garbage alley. 

The first thing Tom noticed was a discarded bloody shirt on the stairs. 

Someone let out a cry of agony. It felt so familiar to Tom, like it was a sound he’d made. 

Maybe it was.

Tom turned around to find a skin and bones version of Evans kneeling on the ground. His head was braced on his forearms and his back was exposed. Blood ran like rivers from huge gashes in the skin. 

A whale of a man stood above him with a massive, serrated whip in hand. He raised it up and cut through the air. A small irrational part of Tom hoped the man was just moving the whip to make a noise that would scare Evans.

That was not the case though. The whip hit Evans’ back and ripped a massive laceration from Evan’s shoulder blade right down to his hip. The whale of a man looked positively gleeful. Something akin to lust shone in the man’s eyes when he raised the whip again. 

“Bastard.” Evans, the Evans that Tom had gotten to know, hissed at the Whale apparition. 

Tom reached out to grab the man by his collar, but his hand slid right through.

The whale of a man brought the whip down again. Skin and bones Evans let out a single sobbed. Tom thought he might beg for mercy but he stayed silent. Evans grit his teeth and braced himself for the next inevitable blow. 

“I could kill him,” Tom offered. He turned to find Evans shaking with fear watching the whale raise the crop again. 

Tom frowned. He stepped between Evans and the whale. “Evans? Evans! Harry James Potter!” 

Evans snapped up and looked at Tom like he was seeing him for the first time. 

“I can kill him.”

“No.” Evans’ voice was small and reluctant. “I don’t want that. I want it to be over.”

“Evans, it is over.” Tom pointed out. “You’re never going back there.”

“What if Dumbledore-”

“Then I’ll Avada Kadavra his ass and Abraxas will drain him dry.”

Evans flinched at the sound of the whale bringing the whip down again. “I don’t like remember this, but I don’t think it has the same emotions it use to. You’re right, it is over.” Evans pulled at the edges of the memory and stuffed it down into a large wine barrel. 

No one thought that Evans had worked through his emotions entirely, but he was a bit more at peace.

Evans shook like a leaf while he cleaned up the wine cellor but at least he kept moving which was a lot more than Tom could say for himself. 

When Evans had tidied up the room, he let Abraxas pull him into a tight hug. “You did really well today” was all the ancient vampire said. 

It was what Evans needed to hear apparently though. The young wizard clunch to Abraxas gasping out in dry sobs while the vampire rubbed his back and held him close. 

Tom waited to the side while Evans collected himself. 

He thought about the home that Evans grew up in.

It was nearly as bad as the orphanage. What had happened to his dream of making wizard kind greater? Wasn’t he trying to prevent other children from ever experiencing the abuse and neglect he had grown up in? 

Not only had he not meet that goal, he’d caused Evans to relive the same horrors Tom had. 

Tom’s stomach sank. How could he have caused the same fate he struggled through on someone else? 

Tom wasn’t sure he could trust his own vision for the wizarding world anymore. He’d failed. Obviously. He’d abandoned and killed his two closest friends. Half his cause, to improve Creature rights, he’d actively worked against in the end. And now this. He’d caused the very tragedy he was trying to erase. 

Guilt like Tom had never known filled his heart and clouded his eyes. 

“Shit” he whimpered silently in the corner. Tears were running down his cheeks. 

Something bright filled the cellar. Evans screwed his eyes shut as the brightness increased. 

Then, suddenly a bolt of lightening starting at Evans struck Tom in the heart. 

Everything went black for a moment. 

When Tom opened his eyes again, he was in Abraxas study lying flat on his back. A warm, brave presence settled into his mind. Harry-Tom was the smallest Horcrux, but it seemed to take up so much space. 

Tom stared up at the wooden ceiling and marveled at the love and tenacity Evans had nurtured in the little soul fragment.

…

“I’m sending you back under one condition” Lily Potter said to Myrtle-Tom. 

Myrtle-Tom looked at Harry Potter’s mother and wondered if it was possible to be killed when already dead. Lily certainly looked like she was willing to give it a try if Myrtle-Tom did anything nefarious.

“You are to do as much good as you can. You are to put your whole life into making the wizarding world better.” Her gaze softened. Much to Tom’s surprise, she pulled him into a hug.

Myrtle-Tom could count on one hand the times he’d been hugged and none of them felt so great. Tentatively, he wrapped his arm around the young witch. 

She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, “There is a little boy inside you filled with love.” She whispered.

Myrtle-Tom thought that was the most beautiful lie he’d ever heard.

“And Tom,” Lily took a step back and smiled wickedly at him, “If you ever hurt my son again, I will come back as a poltergeist and haunt you until the end of time.” 

While a final quick hug, Lily Potter sent Myrtle-Tom back to the world of the living. He had two option, go to Voldemort or Tom. 

…

Voldemort smiled at the press. He basked in their irrational unconditional love. They would follow like sheep right to the slaughter house. 

His agenda was coming along nicely. Somehow the little Longbottom boy had escaped with his grandmother and fought off the three death eaters Voldemort had sent. It was no matter though. Augusta Longbottom was holed up with her grandson somewhere in Knockturn Alley. With both of them squirreled away, the Longbottom house could no longer interfere. 

It was rather bothersome that the Ghetto of Knockturn Alley was entirely cut off from the rest of the wizarding world. It was impossible now for Voldemort to get any of his people in. 

At first, it was just his Death Eater that couldn’t get in but the Goblins, house elves, forest elves, selkie, werewolves, vampires, and several groups had added various protections to the Alley. No one loyal to Voldemort could get in anymore.

That was a fight for another time though. For now, Voldemort would focus on conquering the Ministry of Magic. He was confident that by September, it would be his. 

…

“We need to go to the Abbot's house” Hermione dashed into Abraxas study and grabbed Tom and Harry. Ron and Neville were already close on her heels. 

She threw some powder in the floor and vanished in a puff of smoke. 

Ron was next, followed closely by Evans and Neville. For a split second, Tom thought about not flowing through. He didn’t really have too. He had no loyalty to the Abbott house. But the thought was squashed as soon as it came and Tom stepped into the fire.

He stumbled out into an impressive marble foyer. Evans and Hermione were battling Death Eaters while Ron and Neville cleared a path to help the Abbott family to escape. It seemed that there was a family gathering going on as several generations of Abbott's came streaming from the dining room towards the floo. 

Tom ran over to Evans and pulled him out of the way of a dark curse, “Go protect the family” he motioned to the people behind him. Then he gripped his wand and began to duel. 

Dueling came as naturally to Tom as swimming came to a Selkie. He struck down Death Eater after Death Eater, careful to not kill them. 

Harry set up a few runes to create a protective barrier from the dining room to the floor then jumped back into the fight, Neville and Ron were close behind. 

The five of them managed to stun and body bind all 27 Death Eaters before proper Order members arrived. 

As soon as Dumbledore and his flaming chicken followers showed up, Tom left. He might be willing to help Evans, but he wouldn’t be caught dead working cooperatively with the manipulative old man. 

…

Voldemort let his magic run wild and destroy the Abbott family home.

All of them. Every last Abbott had made it out of the manor and into the safe haven of Knockturn Alley. What’s more, his entire Death Eater strike team was rendered unconscious on the marble floor of the foyer. 

Yes, the Abbots were now out of the Ministry which meant their meddling would stop, but for how long. 

The Potter, Longbottom, and Abbot families were still out there. They could show up at anytime and cause untold damage to Voldemort's plan. He needed to get rid of them. The only way to do that was to knock out Knockturn Alley. 

He had no idea how to do that though. 

This would no doubt mean another long arduous week researching dark magic. Voldemort was seriously starting to considered rising another undead army. It would be a waste of effort if the corpses couldn’t make it past the barriers into Knockturn thought. 

…

“Tom,” Hermione frowned when she opened Harry’s apartment door. Everyone seemed to expect him to just waltz in but he insisted on knocking. “How on earth did you manage to get another black eye?”

Tom vaguely remembered the black eye he sported the first time he’d meet hermione. 

“I tripped, “ Tom answered automatically. Years of living in the orphanage had conditioned that response. 

“Into someone’s first?” Hermione did not look impressed and she wasn’t moving to let him in. 

Tom sent Hermione a withering glare but the fiery witch stood her ground. 

“Abraxas and I had a disagreement” Tom relented. He turned away so he couldn’t see her pity. Only, she sounded more frustrated than empathetic when she said, “and you just let him hit you?”

“He’s a fuck vampire, Hermione. He moves a hell of a lot fast than I do.” now she looked empathetic. Fuck.

“Then leave idiot” the empathy was gone again in a flash. Tom wasn’t sure if he was relieved or upset. This conversation felt like Abraxas abuse was his fault and it damn well wasn’t. Abraxas was blaming him for what a shadow did. Tom was not Voldemort. 

“I did,” He motioned to the fact he was currently standing at Evans’ door with a sack slung over one shoulder. 

Hermione moved out of the way and let him in. 

Evans was in the kitchen cooking dinner with Dobby. Marcus was up to his eyebrows in legal documents. 

“Are you still working on rewriting the entire Magical Legal code?” Tom settled himself down on the couch beside Marcus and picked up a file and started leafing through it. 

Rather than answer the question, Hermione lead him through their progress and pointed to where he could help. 

“You should be the next Minister of Magic Hermione,” Tom suggested that night at the dinner table. 

Hermione smiled blandly, “I intend to be.” 

“You’ll be her vice minister, right?” Marcus took a spoonful of Potato salad and passed the bowl to Tom. 

Tom was almost too surprised to register the action. Finally he reached out and accepted the dish. 

“Obviously,” Hermione answered for him.

“Me? In power? Isn’t that the whole scenario we are try to undo?” he asked the table incredulously. To his shock and awe they all looked blankly back at him.

“Voldemort is a terrible leader, but Tom you’d be great.”

Tom shook his head emphatically, “Not likely. After this I’m getting my medical degree or something.” 

“You want to be A mediwizard?” Marcus snorted, “Can you even heal a patchement cut?”

Tom stuck his nose up haughtily rather than admit that no, he could not heal even the smallest of injuries. That wasn’t the point. He could learn in time. 

“I think that’s really admirable,” Hermione didn’t sound the least bit genuine but she was clearly trying. 

Evans studied him closely. “Give it a try. You might like it , you might not but you’ll learn something either way.”

Tom opened his mouth to say respond, but the apartment door opened and in came Neville and Ron. They were both covered in dust and grinning ear to ear. 

“Oh good, you're back.” Hermione grinned up at her boy friend. They kissed and he stole some of her food. Harry pulled out two muggle folding chair and everyone shuffled over to accommodate the two new dinner guest. 

The rest of the night was spent hearing about Ron and Neville’ recent duel with Bellatrix. 

…

Myrtle-Tom watched as Voldemort tortured his followers. It was disgusting and pathetic. 

Myrtle-Tom stole as much information as he could still being an apparition then headed into Knockturn Alley. 

He found Tom Riddle sharing a bed with Harry James Potter. There was barrier of pillows between the two of them, though Harry had kicked the barrier over and taken up most of the bed. 

Myrtle-Tom grinned and dove into Tom Riddle’s head. For a moment there were two minds in Tom Riddle but in a moment their thoughts and memories melded into one. 

Tom Riddle woke and sat bolt upright.

Beside him, Evans stirred and peeked one eye open to look at him curiously.

“I know how to defeat him,” Tom flung the covers off and padded out of the room, 

“What?” Evans called after him. 

Marcus and Hermione both woke with a start when Tom marched into the living room and started pulling out parchment and drawing up spells. 

“What’s going on?” Marcus asked Evans. 

Tom answered, “I know how to defeat Voldemort.” The three sleepy figures all stared stunned at him.

“Coffee,” Hermione demanded. She pulled the covers off and moved over to the kitchen table to help Tom plan. 

Marcus flung himself back onto the coach for a brief rebellious moment before relenting and getting up to plan. 

Harry rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes and put the coffee on.


	30. Harry Potter

“Evans, I thought we already decided this ages ago with Kolos. We’re not storming the Ministry. I’d be a bloodbath if we did.” Megan grabbed Evans’ drink from out of his hand, “You’re cut off.” She handed him a glass a water and stormed off. 

“She’s probably right,” Evans looked down the table at his friends and co-conspirators. 

Ragnok, Kolos, Abraxas, and Tom were seated around him. There were others who would join the fight but the five of them had to come up with the plan of attack. Ron had already gathered some vital statistics and drawn up a couple of outlines for the group. Something that Evans was deeply grateful. 

“Well we need to get at Voldemort” Tom muttered, his voice nearly drowned out by the noise of the pub. 

“Well he doesn’t live in the ministry. He has to leave at some point.” Ragnok pointed out. 

“Raid his house?” Kolos nodded slowly as he considered the merits of the suggestion. 

“Raid my house. Or what was once my house” Abraxas amended, “Voldemort is likely staying at the Malfoy manor”.

“Do you still have access to the wards.”

Abraxas frowned and shook his head.

Ragnok waved him off, “I can handle the wards.”

Abraxas pulled a spare bit of parchment and began tracing the manor blueprint. “We’ll need to split up then.” 

…

‘Voldemort must have got word that the attack was coming’, was all Evans could think about when he side-along apparated to the forest beyond the Malfoy manor. The grounds were filled with Death Eaters. 

It was as if the entire contents of Azkaban had been dumped onto the grounds, Dementors and all. 

Someone settled a comforting hand on his shoulder. Evans looked over to see Tom kneeling at his side. His eyes were scanning the ground, and his posture was rigid but he did not look frightened. He looked prepared. 

“Leave the heroics to the others,” Tom whispered. “We just need to get to Voldemort”. 

Evans sucked in a breath and tried to remind himself how to breath. Tom was right, but Evans didn’t like it. He was leaving his family and friends to deal with all of Azkaban. 

They waited in the bushes until the signal came from several yards down. The wards were down. 

Boss and Megan bursted out of the forest first. Megan gave a long, ear piercing screech before grabbing two Death Eaters by the scruff of their necks and throwing them into the air. 

Tom grabbed Evans’ hand and pulled him through the shadows towards a side door. He used the shadows and the ensuing battle to hid them from view. 

Just as they were about to enter the manor, Evans caught a gut wrenchingly familiar scene. Sirius was doubled over with a dementor bent over him, sucking his soul out. 

“Expecto Patronum” Evans howled. A massive stage burst from his wand and charged the dementor. Evans didn't have time to see if it worked, Tom yanked him into the manor.

“Evans-”

“It’s one spell Tom.”

“If someone saw us” Tom hissed angrily. There was no time to fight though, they needed to keep moving. 

They dashed down the hall to the servants door. Tom yanked it open and motioned for Evans to go first. 

They tiptoed along the servant's hall ways as fast as they could. Tom pulled the blueprint of the manor out from under his shirt and uncurled it as they went. Evans tried to read the map over Tom’s shoulder but the adrenaline made it hard. Evans couldn’t even figure out where they were at the moment much less where they need to go.

Tom didn’t seem to have the same problem. He lead the way down the hallway again with an air of confident zell. 

By the time they got to the private lounge where Voldemort was most likely to be, Evans’ heart was racing. He could hear his pulse in his ear.

“You will have to fight Voldemort. Distract him.” Tom reminded Evans. As if somehow that minor detail would have slipped his mind. 

Evans pulled his wand from his sleeve and gribbed it like his life depended on it, which was fair given what he was about to walk into to.

“The ritual only take five or ten minutes.” 

Evans glared at the ceiling above himself. A ten minute duel against the most powerful dark lord of their time. Sure, that was doable for a 16 year old Hogwarts student with almost no dueling experience. 

Tom opened the nearly invisible door in the servants hall. Inside was barely big enough to be considered a linen closet. It had once been Dobby’s room apparently. Tom pulled out the things he would need for the ritual. 

Hermione and Tom had invented the ritual together from scratch. There was a very real possibility it wouldn’t work at all, but Hermione seemed confident enough when she explained it. 

“Just keep him distracted and in the room. I’ll do the rest.”

“Just don’t die basically” Evans clarified. He thought Tom was underestimating the inordinately strenuous task he was assigning. 

Tom looked sympathetic for a brief moment, “You’ll be fine. You can stand your own against Abraxas.”

It was a good reminder. Evans stood a bit straighter remembering the epic duels he’s had with Abraxas. He’d survived against a powerful Vampire, surely he could manage a dark lord. 

With one final nod, the two boys parted ways. 

Tom lock himself in Dobby’s old room and Evans walked further down the servant's hall to the door that lead to Voldemort. 

Evans steeled himself and walked into the room.

The lounge had been cleared of all the furniture save for a throne made of bones. Human bones, Centuar bones, Werewolf bone. There was even a cluster of smaller fairy bones on the arm rest. 

Voldemort had pulled one of the fairy bones free and was cleaning his teeth with it.

“I’ve been waiting for ages,” he told Evans disapprovingly. 

Evans stepped further into the room. He adopted a battle position and raised his wand. The handmade battle robes Malvin had given him last Christmas stretched with his moments so fluidly Evans couldn’t help feel like they were a part of him.

Voldemort flung himself off the bone throne and flicked his wand into position “Avada Kedavra” He hissed. 

Evans rolled to the left and sent back his own stinging hex. 

Voldemort flicked it to the side.

Evans jumped back to his feet, just in time to leap over a low lying body bind hex. “Bombarda” 

The bone throne exploded in a shower behind Voldemort. The dark lord cast a shield around himself but not before a broken thigh bone lodged itself in his side. 

Voldemort ripped it out and seared his side to stop the bleeding. 

Evans cast his own “Protego” to stop the volley of hexes Voldemort threw at him. When he cast another killing curse. Evans had to dive out of the way. Two bone breaking hexes hit his battle robe but mostly bounced off. Still, Evans could feel that two of his ribs were at least bruised. 

“Confringo” Evans hollered. The spell managed to just clip Voldemort in the shoulder. He went flying backwards into the pile of bones. When he sat up, Voldemort’s shoulder was a bloody mangled mess. 

Evans blocked the first seven angry hexes Voldemort flung at him but the eights hit him right in the chest. Evan barely registered the word “fulgur” before he felt the jolt of lightning coursed through him. He couldn’t move a muscle for a brief moment. 

When it finally passed. Evans realized he was flat on his back several yards back. His hair was up on all end and the edges of his battle robes were singled. 

“Protago” Evans coughed. The shield gave Evans a moment to collect his wits about him. Voldemort sent another long volley off hexes and curses at him but they all bounced off the pale blue bubble that Evans sat in. 

Evans pulled himself back up off the floor. “Glacius” He sent a stream of ice cascading down on the dark lord.

“Ignis” out of Voldemort's wand sprung a massive fire that melted the ice and sent the room temperature skyrocketing. 

Voldemort turned back to Evans. 

Both were sweating profusely and cradling injuries. 

Voldemort had a chard side and a bloody shoulder. 

Evans had burn marks all over his body, and he was pretty sure the fractured ribs had broken when he was sent flying. It was certainly hard to breath in anycase. 

Voldemort grinned. He abruptly faded into a pool of shadows that came rushing at Evans. 

Reflectively, Evans pulled out his phoenix wings and flapped hard. The pool of shadows went tumbling back for a moment before making another beelining for Evans. 

Evans flapped hard and dodged out of the way. He sent another freezing charm but Voldemort dodged it and went streaking at Evans again.

Evans tucked his wings in and plummeted down to the floor. He landed hard on his knees. Sucking in a breath, he barrel rolled to the side and flung himself back into the air with his wings. 

Voldemort formed briefly enough to send torrent of spells. 

One hit Evans in the left leg. It snapped it half. 

Evans kept afloat to keep off it.

Voldemort landed long enough to form. He raised his wand to attack Evans, but the boy beat him too it. 

Voldemort dodged all of the spells but he lost the upper hand. He started to faze back into a shadow only to pause. 

Evans kept beating his wings. He looked down curiously at Voldemort but the new Minister of Magic only doubled up further. 

Evans wondered if a broken bone had pierced his heart or something. 

Just then blood started dripping out of his mouth and dotting the wood floor beneath him. 

Voldemort began coughing and hacking. A stream of blood cascaded out his mouth. 

Evans wanted to turn away but willed himself not to. 

Finally the coughing stopped and Voldemort looked up. Only he smirked triumphantly at Evans. 

“Tom?” Evans asked tentatively. 

Tom, wearing Voldemort’s new body, nodded noiselessly. 

“Fuck that hurt.” he groaned. The ritual had worked. Tom Riddle’s soul was whole again and somehow Tom had wrestled control over Voldemort. 

Gently, Evans lowered himself to the ground not far from the new Minister of Magic. He reached out with his mind. Where he half expected to find rage and insanity, he found pain and control. 

Tom Riddle was entirely in possession of the new body.

“What happened to Voldemort then? Do you have a split personality or something?”

Tom shock his head, “It was the same as when Myrtle-me came. I took over some of the memories and emotions but it is all still me in control. I don’t feel that different” Tom poked at himself, “Well I feel old and in pain but I don’t feel suddenly bloody thirsty and crazy.”

“Well, what comes to mind when you think about Abraxas?”

“Duels, chess,” Tom answered automatically. A frown cast over his face, “We use to dress Lucious up in dresses and play tea.” 

The comment caught Evans so off guard he began to laugh. The pain in his chest made him stop fairly quickly but he didn’t regret it at all. 

“Shit, did you have photos somewhere?”

Tom looked about the room, “Yes, in the library. I think I could find at least a few copies. How weird. I remember it like it was a dream rather than a memory.”

“Well it isn’t really your memory.” Evans pointed out.

Tom nodded to the logic. 

“I suppose we should go help the other.” Evans began trying to stand but Tom reach over and pulled him back down and gave him a hard glare. Neither of them were going to be of any help to anyone in the bloody, broken mess they were in. 

“What happened to your other body then?” Evans asked. 

“It’s gone” Tom answered simply. 

They were both in too much pain to keep talking so they sat in silence while they waited for the Knockturn Alley residence and the Order of Pheonix members to finish rounding up the Azkaban Aurors. 

…

“How did you get hurt in the first place?” Evans asked Marcus when the slytherin graduate settled gingerly on his couch. “I thought no one ever has hits you with a curse?” 

“There is a first time for everything.” Marcus mumbled into a pillow. 

Evans could sense there was more to the story though. Sure, nearly everyone who had stormed the Malfoy estate came away with at least one battle scar, but they were all happy to talk about them. Marcus was willing to explain that he broke his leg after falling off Megan’s back when the wyvern was flying around over the battle but he wouldn’t say where he got the long gash on his chest. 

Evans waited patiently. Finally, Marcus rolled over and glared at his host, “Your bloody werewolf had his back turned when Bellatrix sent a cutting hex. It would have taken his head clear off his shoulders so I leaped in the way.”

Evans stared dumbfounded.

“Yeah yeah. I saved a werewolf. The world is coming to an end. Merlin has risen from the dead and enslaving humanity. Bla Bla bla. Are you happy now?”

Evans looked positively delicious in his joy. 

“Please don’t read into it” Marcus begged. “I still hate the light fingered mutts” 

...

“I knew I would be in Gryffindor,” Rose announced happily when she settled herself down at the house table beside James Evans. In the background, Mcgonigal kept calling up first years. 

The cat was out of the bag. Everyone knew that James Evans of Knockturn Alley was really Harry James Potter of Hogwarts. Slowly but surely, Evans had convinced everyone to stop calling him Harry Potter. 

The boy who lived was now just an old Wizard legend. 

“Are you really the same Stillwater werewolf from the Stillwater Scandal.” One of the younger students asked. 

“Yes. That’s me. I’m a born werewolf” Rose answered with pride. If she noticed the uneasy looks she got, she didn’t acknowledge them. 

…

James Evans watched from under his Cloak of Invisibility as Professor Snape glared down at the the first year Slytherin vampire. Evans recognized the boy as a member of Abraxas’ coven.

“I was told it’s polite to ask if you are going to be in another coven’s territory.” The first year explained to his head of house. 

Snape looked absolutely livid. “I. am. Not. a. Vampire.” Snape hissed.

Evans had to stuff his fist into his mouth to avoid laughing out loud. The first year vampire looked disbelievingly at Snape who was twitching in frustration.

“10 points from-” Snape stopped just in time. He seemed to refuse to take points from his own house. “Just get out.” He waved vaguely behind him down the dark halls. 

It was nearly midnight and the boy was already nearly late for a class. The vampire shrugged and carried on. 

When Snape finally left, Evans clasped onto the stone floor and laughed until he could barely breath. Tears streaming down his face. 

…

“Congratulation!” Megan flung her arms around Evans when he walked into the White Wyvern pub. “How does it feel to be finally done? Can you imagine, it’s been three years since we first meet. Look how much you’ve grown.” 

Evans grinned at let Megan patted down his mop of brown hair and straighten up his robe. “We’re all so proud of everything you’ve done”. 

Boss came out from the kitchen. He lifted Evans up into a bone crushing hug. When he settled him down again, regulars from all over the pub made their way over to congratulate Evans and buy him a drink. 

When the attention died down, Evans settled himself at Ragnok's booth. 

“So?” The goblin asked, “what now?” 

Evans shrugged. 

Ragnok motioned to the paper at his elbow, “Lobbyist Granger is doing well for herself.” 

The picture on the front of the newspaper was of Hermione shaking hands with Tom for the press. Marcus Flint stood beside Hermione smiling at the crowd. The trio looked powerful and a bit smug. The entire legal system had just finished being revised thanks to their efforts. 

Evans raised his glass, “cheers to them.”

Ragnok knocked their glasses together, “Sure, sure. Nice to work outside of the bank for a change.” 

“Opened your own brewer, right?”

Ragnok nodded, a half drunk smile spreading over his face, “I like it a fair bit better than designing vault keys all day.”

Ragnok looked at Evans expectantly. 

Evans ran a hand through his hair, pulling the long hair back so he could tie it away from his face. At some point he needed to officially take over his role as head of house. Given the number of investments the Potter family had, it would probably mean at least a solid year of learning and straightening up finances. Not to mention there was still a Potter seat at the Wizengamot that he was responsible for. 

“You’re going to be an adult for the rest of your life, Evans. Don’t rush into it too quickly.”

Evans smiled, “I might go visit Malvin again this summer.”

“You had fun traveling with him last year.” Rangok agreed. 

“Brazil was really cool. This year, Ragnok is working in a Thunderbird reserve in America. At Yellowstone National Park. I think I might go with him. At least for the summer.” Evans grinned. He had offers to play Quidditch professionally and he got accepted into the Auror program with Ron, but Evans wasn’t sure if he’d accept either of them. “I want to settled down back in Knockturn eventually, but I want to go exploring for a bit first.” 

“I was offered a Teacher’s Assistant position at Ilvermorny” Evans admitted quietly, “don’t tell anyone from Hogwarts, but I think I might take it.”


End file.
